Treason
by scarlet and gold
Summary: King William cannot bear the thought of losing the love of his life again. He is determined for her to become skilled at hand to hand combat - and what better teacher than Eric, the best fighter he knows. The one man whom he would trust with his life. (Snow/Eric, UST)
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Treason

**Author:** scarlettandgold

**Ship:** Snow White and Eric the Huntsman

**Rating: M**

**Summary:** _King William cannot bear the thought of losing the love of his life again. So he turns to the one man he knows he can trust to keep her safe. The one man whom he would trust with his life. _

**Disclaimer:** The main characters and world of Snow White and the Huntsman do not belong to me, this is a work of fan fiction. The story and some of the characters and settings are mine.

**Warnings: **Infidelity

**Chapter One**

It is a grey and windswept Tuesday when William makes his first grave mistake as King.

"Now I must ask, my Queen, that you do not allow that temper of yours to let you forget your manners…" He casts me a lopsided grin over his shoulder and winks before turning to open an imposing steel door. I frown in response but take the hand he offers. He gives my fingers a reassuring squeeze and leads me in to a tall room.

I hadn't been paying attention to where he was taking me but I immediately recognise the high ceilings of Ravenna's old throne room. It is the room where I nearly lost William – where Ravenna's black glass guards fought my soldiers while I confronted the Queen in the mirror room beyond.

All remains of that battle were swept away months ago and now we had all but abandoned this wing of the castle – favoring instead to use the large dining room in the west wing with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. Being back in here brings back memories that tighten my gut but I follow William forward, trusting he wouldn't bring me here but for a good reason.

"Snow, my love. I know it is important to you to visit all our subjects personally, even though I have voiced my concerns for your safety travelling so far outside the castle walls."

I am barely following his words – looking at the columns still standing like war-weary soldiers holding up the dark ceiling. The murky corners feel like they might hold a dozen ghosts and I screw my nose up at the acrid smell – there is a lingering scent of charred wood and leather.

"And so if you are going to insist on travelling with me into the unknown," he continues, "I must insist that you know how to defend yourself."

He stops and I turn to look at him. He waits with an expectant smile on this face – gesturing towards the steps I walked up to face Ravenna here so long ago.

There is a man sitting there and the breadth of his shoulders give him away instantly. He unfolds long legs to stand and my stomach reacts with a long slow flip.

"Eric." The name comes out of me on a breath, without my permission.

He begins to walk towards us.

"Your Highnesses," he says in his low brogue. His direct gaze drops only for the second it takes him to dip his head with a nod of respect.

"Eric." I nod back. William takes my elbow.

"Now, my love – please do not be angry." He turns me to him and I find it hard to focus on his face – this face I've come to love and trust. He smiles his warm smile. "I cannot bear the thought of you ever being taken from me again. So I want us to prepare for any risk and I need you to be able to take care of yourself if I'm not there to do it."

A mounting dread sends a chill through me and I open my mouth to speak but he holds a hand up. "Hear me out first. I know you are far from helpless. But I need you to be good – _very_ good. Eric is the best fighter I've seen. I've asked him to teach you to wield a sword as well as he does."

"William, I…" I glance at Eric who is watching our exchange. "You have already given me plenty of tuition in archery – I do not need to…"

"You need to know hand to hand combat, Snow. I wish that were not the case but this land is still a dangerous place. I will have my Queen able to protect herself at all times – one day even protect our children."

He takes my hands, gently pulling me closer. "Please, allow me this peace. I trust Eric with my life and _you_ are my life." William takes a finger and draws it softly down my jaw. Out of the corner of my vision I see Eric turn his head discretely towards the wall of windows.

I try and focus on breathing evenly, although my heart is speeding in my chest. I'd thought I had buried these feelings - feelings I had barely acknowledged let alone voiced.

After I returned to my kingdom many months ago, Eric had left, moving out to become part of the Hunting village just beyond the castle's walls. I saw him only rarely and each time I was left confused by the overwhelming feelings each left me with. Soon after, William began courting me and the whole castle appeared to approve. So I decided to avoid Eric and the confusion his presence caused me. But now he was here, his physical appearance causing a hitch in my throat as it always has. I turn away from him, and to William.

"Very well, my King," I sigh. He smiles and tilts my face forward, kissing my forehead.

"Thank you. And thank you, Eric. I appreciate your service - and your discretion." William takes Eric's firm handshake. "You have the sword we discussed?"

"Aye." Eric draws a fabric wrapped parcel from under his arm, holding it out. Despite my irritation at this whole arrangement, I cannot fool myself that I am not intrigued. At William's nod, Eric begins to unravel the thick brown material to reveal a shining silver broadsword. It is slim and long, with an intricate basket of fine gold arranged over the hilt for a hand cover. I cannot resist reaching for it and Eric guides it naturally into my hand. When my fingers close around the hilt I nearly gasp at the weight – it is no heavier than a small wooden play sword. I turn the magnificent piece easily and stare at it in my hand, marveling at the intricate workings on the basket hilt.

"Is it as you specified?" I glance up, realizing William is addressing Eric.

The Huntsman nods. "Aye, m'lord." He takes one long stride and he is there, filling the space around me. I look up at him but he is focused on the sword in my hand.

"Beautifully lightweight and balanced," Eric says as he places his fingertips under the blade. I banish an errant thought of how, this close, his low voice seems to vibrate through my own chest. He tilts the sword and the light from the slit windows catches the blade and runs down the length of it. William steps forward, engrossed.

"And the grip?"

"Aye, as we discussed-" Eric takes my wrist with one of his huge hands and I fight to keep my breathing even. "- it is no' the traditional handshake grip."

"When a man makes a fist, his knuckles are straight – so the handshake grip is ideal. But when a woman makes a fist, her knuckles are curved." He runs a finger over the arc of my knuckles. I succeed in not flinching but I know my breathing is shallow and too quick. I risk a glance at William and he has not noticed, he is still marveling at the sword. Eric drops my hand.

"It is truly exquisite. My thanks and compliments to the sword smith," William says with awe.

Eric nods.

I stand there, sword in hand between my husband and Eric. These two men who in this very room, came to my aid when I was facing my greatest foe – Ravenna. The last time I was in this room it was still full of debris from our battle. Looking around now, I can see it has been cleaned thoroughly – the flagstone floor is well swept although the strip of red carpet is no longer here. Eric sees me looking around.

"We will train in the Mirror Room, Pri… Your highness," he says.

A cold dread grips me at that; this is where I killed Ravenna. And though it had been justified and the only option – I still took no delight in the memory of it. I was not designed to kill.

And then there is another dread... that of being alone with Eric. I glance at him and he is watching me. He makes me nervous but I think he is oblivious to it - has always been oblivious to the effect he has on me. I grudgingly admit to myself that he would be the perfect tutor to teach me how to fight, and that he would likely just show me a few things and be gone by the time I turned back around. One thing Eric never does is overstay his welcome.

"Please, Eric – just Snow," I mutter.

"Very well, Snow."

"Well, I will leave you two to it."

"What?" I whip around to see William walking backwards. "Where are you going?"

He grins. "I would only be a distraction, my love. You are in good hands with Eric."

I watch him walk back to the tall double doors, my handsome, good William. I want to yell at him that he is making a mistake.

But before long the sound of the door closing echoes against the cavernous ceiling and I am alone, with Eric. We both stand in silence for a while and I try and think of something to say. Then he turns and heads back towards the Mirror Room.

"Let's get started."

* * *

The room is smaller than I remember it; my bitter memories must have overblown the dimensions. The mirror still hangs on the far wall but it is covered with thick cloth. The magic in it seemed to have died with Ravenna but no one was willing to test that.

I circle the fire pit in the middle of the floor, focused on the ashes there, trying to block out the image of Ravenna standing in the centre of the flames, screaming and melting. I force myself to look around at the circular walls with their stone vines climbing and over to the steps where Ravenna finally met her end. I can picture her there too, gasping at me with fear in her dying eyes.

"Snow?"

Eric has removed his leather tunic and stands on the other side of the fire pit in just his shirtsleeves and fitted breeches. He has my sword in one large hand and two padded sticks in the other. He frowns as he walks slowly around the fire towards me.

"Are ye ok? We don't have to have to train here if you don't want to."

I attempt to stifle a rising panic as he gets closer but it threatens to swell up and choke me. I can't honestly decide if it is brought on by being in this room or by being alone with this man.

"I'm fine," I mutter, but I continue to circle the pit, staring into the dead ashes and keeping the distance between us constant.

"I know ye didna want to do this. And I know it's less than necessary; if I remember rightly, you already have a fairly lethal right hook."

I glance across at him and he wears a slight smile, rubbing his jaw as if he can still feel the impact of that punch I landed there in the Dark Forest so long ago. Despite myself, I feel my lips tug into a smile too.

"There it is. Finally, a smile." He says this as if to himself. Then he weighs my sword in one hand for a moment before spinning it absently yet effortlessly, wrist fluid. Without moving his body, he swivels the sword a few times, each move finishing with a strike that would cut to the heart of an opponent. Again I find my curiosity piqued without consciously permitting it and I realize I may be being unreasonable. If anyone is going to teach me survival skills to help me be a better Queen for my kingdom, it is he.

He grins and I find myself smiling back.

"I'll just teach you a little more of what I know. I remember you took my first lesson to heart exceptionally well."

I glance at the steps where I drove the dagger into Ravenna's heart, just as Eric had taught me to in the Dark Forest. He was right then and he is probably right now. I look back at him and he is watching me, his expression serious.

Even across the room I can feel the connection again, the knowledge we have of each other just from shared moments that no one else knows of. Despite the distance between us of late, it still appears to be like a cipher between us – only he and I know all those details of our journey from the Dark Forest that was the beginning of the kingdom as it stands today.

I trusted him with my life then, and I trust him with it now. Even though I barely see him anymore, I realize nothing has changed. I square my shoulders to face him.

"Very well, Huntsman. Show me what I need to know."

He smiles. "Very well, your Highness - Snow. Let us begin."

* * *

My footsteps echo in the passageway that leads to my chambers. I have dismissed the guards that escorted me to my wing as my ladies maids are in my room, waiting with a drawn bath. This short walk down the corridor is my only moment to be alone since I left the training session with Eric. I slow to a stop and place one hand on the tapestry hung wall and the other on my ribs. Unbidden, a smile comes to my lips.

My thoughts race disobediently over the last hour. At first, I attempted to keep a respectable distance as Eric began to teach me how to block blows. But it became apparent that my reticence would just hinder my learning. Eric didn't seem to notice that I avoided his touch – true to his nature he grabbed me when and how he saw fit, blithely inappropriate with my personal space.

It became a blur of his physical presence, his towering height and broad shoulders over shadowing me, his strength filling my every sense and making it hard to make sense of his instruction. Every incidental touch - his fingers around my wrists, his hands grasping my ribs in the very spot where my own palm is now. At one point his thumb accidentally grazed the underside of my breast and I flinched before I could stop myself. I don't know if he noticed.

I take a deep breath in, trying to calm my blood. I can still smell him on me.

A tiny thrill assaults my stomach and I push myself away from the wall.

Muttering a curse under my breath, I continue to walk towards my bedroom and the welcome bath that awaits.

* * *

William is waiting to escort me to dinner as soon as I leave my chambers. I am freshly bathed and scented and yet when he goes to kiss my hand, I have a moment of panic that I may still carry Eric's scent. It is an odd thing to think and I dismiss it immediately.

"Please tell me you don't hate me for that," he says, squinting at me.

I smile as I take his arm and we begin to stroll towards the dining hall. I wait a moment before answering with a small shake of my head.

"If I did, I will soon have the means by which to make you pay."

He grins and I do too. He lowers his head to speak near my ear. "I will accept any physical punishment the lady sees fit."

I nod and squeeze his arm and I hope he knows that means I would like him to visit me tonight. I look up to share a moment of eye contact but he is already looking ahead, nodding to the guards on the door of the dining hall.

We enter to a full hall on their feet behind their place sittings at the long wooden tables, waiting for their King and Queen. This is one of my favorite rooms of the palace; it is large and airy with tall, beautiful colored glass windows set near the ceiling that cast a peaceful warm glow over the proceedings of an early evening. I nod to Beith and the other dwarves as we pass and they bow back, smiling. Ladies curtsey as we pass also which I have never felt comfortable with but William has helped me get used to it. The dinner protocol is as informal as I could manage but there is still a certain amount of spectacle that William says I must retain.

We approach the few steps that will lead us to our seats at the head table and it is then that I see him. Standing at the place to the side of my chair is Eric. He dips in a bow but not before I notice his eyes flicker from my feet up to my blue and silver-flecked bodice, over the swell of my breasts and finally to my face. I nearly stumble up the stairs but William rights me and leads me to sit down. I feel disorientated for a second, so much so I startle as the assembled subjects shout 'Long live the King and Queen!' – even though that happens every night we dine. I sit, still stunned and those around us sit too. William does not notice my agitation and is talking to his father who sits at his side.

"Evening, Your Highness." Eric's deep voice rumbles through me and I fix a convincing smile on my face before looking up at him. He folds down into his seat and reaches for his napkin; I watch his hands as they move.

"Good evening, Eric."

"How's the body feeling?"

I flush at his question, grasping my own cloth napkin and fussing with it.

"Fine, thank you."

"You might be a bit sore tomorrow."

I nod, somehow mortified. William finally turns to us.

"I asked Eric to dine here at the castle with us- for the few weeks while you train, and stay whenever he desires to." William leans forward to talk to Eric directly. "You mustn't think you need come to formal dining if you don't care to though; I realize you may want to eat informally or travel home to check on your lodgings."

Eric nods graciously. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Please, Eric – William here."

"Aye, William."

I sit stock still as the men talk across me, trying to make sense of what has happened today. I have gone from seeing Eric rarely, perhaps once a fortnight at most, to having him dominate my every waking hour. I glance at him as he talks. There was a time when I missed him, where I felt sad that he chose to live on the outskirts of town with the royal Hunters but once William and I started courting I had that and the wedding to concentrate on. Now I realize I didn't ever get to say a proper goodbye to him after the coronation, after all that we shared. I suppose that it is natural that I would have odd feelings concerning him.

"And how did our student fare today?" William asks with a smile in his voice that grates on my nerves.

"Aye, she was very good." Eric leans back to be served his plate. The buxom serving girl leans needlessly close to him and tries to catch his eye but he doesn't notice.

"Well again, I must thank you for agreeing to this, Eric. I would trust no other with the task."

Eric nods and William turns back to his father. I try and suppress the irritation I feel at being spoken about as if I'm some filly to be broken but I stay silent, and set about eating my meal. I am famished and the food is delicious. Eric doesn't say much, and before long we are finished our meals and it is time to leave.

I'm about to excuse myself when William turns, places a hand on my forearm and addresses Eric. "Same time tomorrow?"

Eric gives me a small and quick, almost sympathetic smile.

"Aye, if that suits you, Snow."

I give a falsely obliging nod. "Certainly. Of course."

William claps his hands, pleased with himself and missing my sarcastic tone entirely. "Well then. We bid you all good night."

He stands and offers me his arm. I stand and take it though I feel a profound annoyance with my husband right now. I do not bid good night to Eric or even look in his direction.

But by the time William is dropping me at the corridor to my quarters I have calmed myself again. In fact as I turn to him and let him take me in his arms I am filled with a surge of relief and – perhaps strangely – another equal surge of desire. He kisses me and I open my mouth just a little to deepen the kiss. He makes a noise against my lips, grasping my arms and extracting himself gently.

"Snow, not here…" He glances at the guards standing to attention at the stone archway leading to my quarters. They stare steadfastly ahead, doing a very good job of feigning inattention.

"Will you visit me later?" I whisper, surprising myself with my boldness.

William smiles and strokes my cheek. "Yes, my love." I smile back. "If our gentlemen's discussions don't go on too long."

He plants a kiss on my forehead and misses seeing the smile dropping from my face.

Back in my room, the waiting maids take out my hair and loosen my stays before quietly leaving. When they are gone I change into the more intricate of my nightgowns, enjoying the soft folds of fabric and lace and how they feel against my bare skin. I spend a long time brushing my hair straight with the bone hairbrush that once belonged to my mother. Then I pull the curtains to the solitary window wide and extinguish all the lamps before getting into my large four-poster bed.

I lie there on my back with my hair spread out on the pillow, staring at the canopy above. It's a while before I throw off the suffocating covers. I pull my knees up and the silky material of the nightgown slides down my thighs. My hands go from resting on my stomach to trailing down over my hips and on to caress the tops of my legs. I close my eyes.

An image comes into my mind of being found here like this. I picture him entering my chamber and sitting quietly on the edge of the bed. In my mind's eye I see him place a hand over one of mine as I stroke my thighs. Then he leans down to kiss me, not my lips but my throat, and the dip between my collarbones. I move my hands to his arms, running my fingers over hard muscles under a rough calico shirt, and on to grasp his broad shoulders. His hand trails higher, fingers brushing between my legs. I bury my face in his neck, lifting my hips to him.

My eyes fly open. My imagination had filled in the distinctive smell of the man I was picturing. I feel my face heat in the dark room. I had not been picturing the spiced, clean scent of my husband, but rather the heady mix of musk and leather that belongs solely to Eric. I draw the covers over me and turn on to my side, shutting my eyes to the thoughts.

I wake early to the light streaming through the open curtains and the realization that my husband did not visit in the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"You mustn't expose your left side so. Protect and strike, protect and strike…"

I grind my teeth in frustration, turning to walk back to our starting point for what feels like the hundredth time. I brush my hair behind one shoulder with the back of my hand and assume the stance as Eric has taught me, adding a scowl for my own satisfaction.

Eric approaches, a smile tugging at his lips. When he gets close, he drops his arms and the wooden boards he has strapped to them.

"D'ye want to get out of here?"

"Pardon?" I stay in my stance; aware this may be a test.

"Come on." He stoops and picks up the few belongings that we have brought into the Mirror room. I stand there stunned, watching as he walks to the door. He turns and tilts his head at me.

"Well? Are ye coming or not?"

I'm too stunned to question his strange behavior and so I follow.

The guards accompany us as Eric leads us through the halls of the castle and I don't miss the confused glance they give each other. When we arrive at the stables I can see them casting nervous looks around and I realize they are unsure of whether they can allow me to leave the castle grounds with this man.

"You are relieved of your duty," I say. They shift uncomfortably and when they don't make any move to leave I question them. "Is there a problem?"

One of the guards, the one with a smattering of freckles across his soft cheeks who without the uniform would look even younger than me, steps forward shyly. "Your Highness, I beg your pardon. The King gave us express orders never to leave you unattended."

I sigh. "Very well. One of you, go to the castle and confirm with the King that I can be left in Eric's company. We –" I turn to Eric, realizing I still have no idea where we are headed. "– Where are we going, Eric?"

He casts me a quick grin as he pulls the girdle strap tight on the young gelding he is saddling. "For a ride. We will be back before sundown."

I shrug at the round-faced guard who stands with a startled look on his face for a moment before bowing and turning to walk briskly back towards the castle. I have to smile and wonder how much more use these two would be to me if I were to come upon danger anyway; Eric has proven to be more than enough protection in the past.

We are saddled and ready to go before the guard returns. Eric nods at the other guard still hovering by the stable doors. "I will no' let her come to any harm, lad, you have my word."

The guard stands with his mouth opening and shutting without sound as we both take heels to our horse's flanks and ride out of the stables. We take the back streets towards the entrance and I raise the hood of my travelling cape to avoid being recognized. My anxiety starts to ebb as I ride, noticing villagers going about their business without a glance in my direction. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, realizing that the absence of fanfare and recognition is affording me a certain amount of safety in itself.

Once we ride through the gates with just a nod from Eric to the guards stationed there, Eric urges his mount into a trot and then a canter without a word or a look back to me. I follow his example, gripping my reins and giving my young horse her nose – she responds instantly, obviously enjoying the chance to stretch her legs.

We ride hard and fast along the cliff top overlooking the wild coast. The wind throws my hood back and eventually gets its fingers into my carefully coiffed hair, pulling it undone until it flies out behind me in a black streak. The ocean air assaults my nostrils and the sun beats down on my face and suddenly I am smiling – laughing, even. The horse responds to me leaning lower over her neck with more speed and she is fast; so fast she draws level with Eric's gelding. I glance over to him and he smiles, spurring on his own mount for more speed. We race like that for a few more miles before he motions that we will head off the track inland.

We slow as we approach the first farm. I have been to this small settlement before – it is where the kingdom's hunters reside – and it must be where Eric's house is. A small thrill runs through me at the thought that that might be where we are going but I dampen it down. I peek over at him as he nods at a boy walking alongside the trail, leading three small goats. Eric glances back and catches me looking. He keeps his eyes on me; regarding me in that way that he does that makes me feel uncomfortable and safe all at once.

It is in that precise moment that my brain decides to remind me of the less than innocent thoughts I had about him in my bed last night. I feel my face fill with blood; hear it roar in my ears. I look down and away but my eyes pull back to him without my permission. He is still watching me, his gaze unreadable. Then he motions to my hood and points ahead; I see an approaching horse-drawn cart and understand immediately – it is best for me not to be seen.

I draw my hood up and don't acknowledge them when he does. We ride on through the small community and I sense Eric is well liked here now – just from the amount of villagers who call out to him. No one bothers to question him on his companion and I feel that same relief and anonymity that I did leaving the castle. I direct my horse's nose to the rear flank of Eric's mount and just let them lead us. I glance up as much as I can without showing my face and enjoy the simple scenes of village life; pigs being fed, wares being sold, children playing.

Soon, I notice an absence of people and a lushness to the grass at the trail's verge. I draw my hood back a little just as we ride under some overhanging trees and realize we are riding into the forest that lines the valley. After a time the thin trail starts to slope downwards and I give my horse her head again; she picks her way daintily down. Flecks of sun drop through the thin canopy giving the trail a cool green hue.

Just as I think of asking Eric where he is taking us, he turns off the trail. My horse follows and with a nudge through a thin screen of branches we find ourselves in a glade.

It is entirely surrounded by trees and wild flowers but the middle of the clearing is covered in a plush, light green grass. It looks wildly soft and luxurious and my instinct is to dismount just to run my fingers through it. Eric is already swinging his leg off and I follow suit, dropping my horse's reigns as he does. The big gelding heads to a corner of the glade and bends his forelegs; my horse follows and I realize there is a small stream there.

I take my travelling cloak off, swinging it from my shoulders and draping it over a fallen log. "This place is beautiful."

"Aye." His voice is close and I turn, startled. "It isn't just beautiful though."

Before I have a chance to puzzle his answer he grabs me. Not roughly, but firmly by my upper arms. I move to take a step back from him and realize too late that he has placed his foot behind my heel. I trip, not at all elegantly, and am only saved from falling soundly on my behind by Eric's hands lowering me and by the unusual softness of the grass. I roll from my back on to my front, rising into a crouch. My mind reels as Eric grins down at me, nodding.

"Good, that's good. You have an impressive survival instinct; I thought as much." He crouches a bit himself, mirroring my stance somewhat. "But that will do you only so much good. You are too small to let yourself get into positions where you will be overpowered. You mustn't let anyone get that chance."

His meaning dawns on me and I screw my face up in disbelief. "You…you brought me out here for…for grappling practice?"

"Aye." His smile is lopsided and infuriating. I stand erect.

"I am not doing this. This isn't…."

My face grows warm again as another stray thought of last night's fantasy snakes in. "It's not appropriate," I mutter.

Eric advances, again grabbing me by the upper arms and tripping me over his leg once more. This time I don't resist and just lay there on the soft ground. He doesn't rise either and so he is lying over me, propped up on his arms. He studies my face and I notice his eyes flick down to my chest as it rapidly rises and falls.

"That's the thing, Princess. Those intent on harming you are no' concerned with what is 'appropriate'. If I'm to teach you how to defend yourself, _really_ defend yourself, we must be realistic."

We lay there, silent, the calming sounds of the glade dripping in to my consciousness; the smatterings of birdsong and the faint burble of the stream. I notice his eyes are greener in this light, with flecks of blue in the centre. His gaze travels to my lips and I squirm, unsure of what to do now. Abruptly, he stands and offers me a hand. I take it and he pulls me to my feet.

"I can't teach you what I want to unless you're willing to hit the ground occasionally. At least here –" he gestures around the glade "-it won't hurt so much."

I rub my rump with my hands. "I'm not so sure about that."

He laughs. I look around the beautiful clearing and sigh, shrugging.

"And at least there will be no one to bear witness."

I say it almost to myself but when I look to him he is regarding me with a seriousness that sends a jolt down my spine. I think he is going to comment further but instead he just nods and goes to check on the horses.

XXX

If I had thought the training at the castle was hard, I was mistaken. By the time I have been taken to the ground over two dozen times my muscles are screaming in protest. But I have had a few small victories; I broke out of one of Eric's holds and dodged the right way to avoid being captured the next. Every other time I was rendered helpless but I was learning, I was sure of that. And though my body ached I felt a sense of achievement stronger than I could ever remember feeling. I was exhausted and I knew I looked and smelt a fright but I realized I was a kind of happy I didn't recognize.

I begin to stand again, getting myself into a ready crouch when Eric looks to the circle of sky visible above the glade. He moves out of his own crouch, walking towards me casually.

"That's enough for one day. I best get you back to your King before I have the entire guard after me."

I don't move, strangely unwilling to accept the session is over. When he reaches me, he puts his arm around my shoulders in a brotherly fashion that seems to heighten my disappointment.

"You did well, Princess." I glance up at him. "Sorry," he says. "I don't know why I keep calling you that."

I shrug. "I don't mind."

He squeezes my shoulder once and then leaves me to gather the horses. I watch him, noticing how fluidly he moves. He is almost graceful – but that is the wrong word, it is more grace in an animal sense, such as that of a predator. I catch myself staring as he leads the horses towards me and I look quickly away, brushing off my skirts.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Aye," I say, and then I laugh at how easily his phrase fell out of me. He laughs back.

"Are ye mocking me, Princess?"

His eyes are lively and I press my lips together against my smile but it surfaces anyway. We are standing close, at my horse's side. He looks down at me, his eyes travelling my face and while I tell myself to look away, I find I don't. I remain still, letting myself notice that the small space between us seems to fill with a heat that pulls at all my senses and pulses through me in waves. I feel my lips part and his eyes drop to them. He clears his throat, the noise a rumble in his deep chest.

"It is good to see you laugh."

I study his face, suppressing a strong urge to touch his beard and see if it is soft or coarse. Instead I just nod. He breaks eye contact and stoops to offer his hand for my foot; it is unnecessary but I am grateful that it gives me something to do. I step up and he boosts me easily in to my saddle.

We ride fast, back to the castle and I find nerves gnaw at my stomach the closer we get. It is only seeing the sun low in the sky that makes me realise that William will be upset by our trip outside the castle gates. But we make good time getting back to the stables, and no one notices as we walk briskly through the castle and back to Ravenna's old throne room. The two guards we left this morning are still on the door and I see the relief on both of their faces as we enter the corridor.

"Ye best get back to your quarters."

I nod at Eric's words, though a little regret begins to creep through the relief. I realize then that I do not want this day to end.

"Ah, finished have we?" William rounds the corner we just came around ourselves. When he reaches me he places his hands on my shoulders and squeezes and I nearly flinch, my nerves raw. Eric smiles without a hint of unease.

I glance at the guards who stare straight ahead, expressionless. I would wager that they had not approached their king about my leaving the castle for fear of retribution – choosing instead to just trust I would return. One of them flicks his eyes to me and I confirm my suspicion in his pleading gaze.

"How did you go today?" William is addressing me but my throat feels closed and thankfully, Eric answers.

"Ye have quite the fighter on your hands there, William. You'll no' be wanting to cross her any time soon."

William laughs and rubs my shoulders. I find myself noticing how small his hands are compared to Eric's.

"Excellent. Will you be joining us at dinner, Eric?"

"No, thank ye, William. I best go and see to some business." I try not to notice my spirits falling with his words. "I will see you tomorrow…Snow."

I dip my head and he bows to both of us before leaving.

William chatters about court business as he and the guards escort me to my quarters but I find I cannot concentrate on his words. In my bath before dinner I sit in a daydream, allowing the ladies maids to wash my body and hair as I stare into middle space. I move through dinner and conversations that night feeling like a ghost, observing myself as if I am not in my body. William asks me if I am all right and I take care to be more animated and personable though I am just holding on for the solitude I will get back in my room later. I do not mention leaving the castle when William asks what we did that day. I muster a genuine smile when William leaves me at my quarters and he seems satisfied.

I do not give any indication that my mind is fixed on one thing and one thing only.

Tomorrow.

XXX

My excitement in the morning must be obvious.

"You are in good spirits, my Queen." My companion and maid, Lily mentions shyly as she works on my hair. My body is absolutely aching from yesterday's efforts but I seem to enjoy the feeling; knowing it is born from hard work, perhaps.

"Yes," I say, studying my reflection in the mirror. I do feel that I look different, strangely. My dark brows seem more relaxed, my skin not so pale. Perhaps this is what exercise does for me. "I suppose I am."

Lily finishes the braids I have requested to keep my hair back off my face and smiles at me in the mirror. "If I may say so, happy looks good on you."

I watch her reflection as she curtseys with a smile.

"Thank you, Lily," I say and dismiss her. I sit looking in the mirror for a while longer before I take my own leave.

XXX

He smiles as I approach across the throne room and I try and suppress the jolt of pleasure it gives me. I am certain we will stay in the castle this day and I have taken care not to look forward to another experience such as I enjoyed yesterday. But as he offers one large hand out to me I know the meaning in it.

"Shall we?"

After a moment's hesitation, I take his hand by way of answer. It is warm and wraps around mine entirely. He leads me to the door.

XXX

"Momentum and weight; those are your two best friends." He stands facing me and I fight to concentrate. I have admitted to myself that his closeness is distracting but have allowed that to be entirely expected; I have not been this close to a man other than my husband. His physical presence has always overwhelmed me, as well as it might – not even the guards I see regularly match Eric in height or size. I decide it is entirely normal to feel overawed by such a presence.

"You're only a wee thing so you must use your energy wisely." He takes a few steps back, hands up and at the ready. I mirror his stance and he nods. "Aye, that's it – if you think you'll be forced to engage, keep your hands up and ready, good girl."

"Now, if I rush you-" he makes a quick motion towards me. I take an automatic step back but he shakes his head. "No, stay in close but stay balanced, that's it. Now use my momentum to put me on the ground." He steps back again and this time when he lunges, I do as he instructs. To my surprise I push him aside quite easily. He grins up at me from the ground.

"That's it, well done. Now when you have an opponent prone like this and he is a man then you must not hesitate. Heel down, not toes – and stomp, right here." He gestures to his codpiece and I can't help it; my hands cover my face. I don't realize he moves to stand until he is gently prizing my hands away by the wrist.

"Now don't get shy on me, Princess." I am smiling and he laughs back. "Every time – that is what you are aiming for. Groin, as hard as you can. It is the most important part of a man, trust me." I glimpse up at him and he scrubs a hand over his face, almost seeming embarrassed for a fleeting second. "You will cripple any man if you wound him there. Then you can make your escape."

I just nod, silently mortified to be discussing this with him; I can't believe I'm discussing genitals with anyone other than my husband. To be honest I would be mortified to talk about it with him as well. I feel a laugh burble up from my stomach and into my chest and before I can stop it, it is out. He is smiling at me and another laugh forces its way out of me until I am giggling – uncontrollably. I try and cover my mouth but it is no use, the harder I try to stop, the worse it gets. When I notice he is laughing too I am lost; I lower myself to the ground, fighting for breath I am laughing so hard.

We laugh until we are in tears, in the middle of our sunny glade. I actually roll on to my back, laughing up into the slice of blue sky above us, giving up all pretense of composure now. Just when I think I can stop, another wave of giggles assaults me and I realize I haven't laughed like this since I was a girl.

When I finally get control again, Eric crawls over to me. He braces an elbow on the grass beside my head and I smile up at him. His hand comes up very slowly and shockingly; he traces my brow lightly with his thumb. I watch as his smile evaporates and I feel my own do the same.

"So serious, this face," he murmurs. I lie completely still, drinking in the feel of his hands. He smiles but it is laced with sadness. "You have a lovely laugh. I would like to hear more of it."

I swallow, feeling light headed and helpless. He meets my eyes but then quickly looks away, pulling back to sit on his knees. When he braces his arms on his legs to stand I just lie there for a moment longer staring into the grass, trying to still my racing heart.

"We best go." His voice above me sounds strained and I just nod.

We ride back in silence and say goodbye quickly today. I feel again like I am going through the motions that night at dinner. But this time I am glad Eric does not come although I'm not sure why I feel that way when the day before I was disappointed. William is wildly oblivious to my mood and obviously amorous when he walks me back to my room. I ready myself for his visit, somehow knowing he will come to me tonight even though he doesn't say as much. Sure enough, an hour after he has left me there is a soft knock on the heavy door of my chambers.

I let William in and he kisses me immediately. I kiss him back enthusiastically – the kissing is the part I like the best. But it is always shorter than I would like it; it is only a minute before he is backing me towards my bed. We fall into it and my aching muscles protest but I keep quiet. He settles himself between my legs and I bend my knees up to accommodate him; he buries his face in my neck and puts a hand down to open his breeches. I stare up at the canopy, breathing deeply as I have learnt it helps me to relax at this point. I already have no undergarments on – knowing from previous experience that the removal of them is always awkward.

William braces himself on his elbow and guides himself into me. It is uncomfortable at first and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to relax. He pushes harder and I focusing on breathing, dropping my knees wider to try and help. He grunts with the effort and I bite my lip against the pain until finally it feels as it should. He moves inside me and after a few thrusts it begins to feel more comfortable. Then he thrusts once, forcefully, crying out. I move my hands to his back as I feel the tension go out of him and the full weight of him relaxes into me. After a few moments, he pushes up and kisses me quickly on the lips before moving his hips back and pulling out of me. I try and keep the smile on my face as he settles next to me; ignoring the warm liquid seeping from between my legs.

"Ah, my love. You drive me crazy, you know."

I nod and kiss him, wondering if it would be too forward to roll on top of him now. Before I get to decide though, he is closing his breeches and swinging his legs off the bed. He walks back around to my side, pulling the blankets up to my chin.

"Goodnight, Snow. I love you."

The smile on my face feels wooden. "I love you too, William."

He kisses me on the forehead and leaves me alone, staring up at the canopy in the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The next day, Eric does not take me to the glade. We ride past where I know we usually turn and my curiosity is piqued; it wakes up the part of me that felt lethargic today. Eric and I had met at the stables as arranged the day before, saving the small amount of time we would both waste getting to the old throne room.

We ride a while longer, sticking to the faint trail that winds through the delicate trees. It is a beautiful forest, full of light and pretty birds that follow us through, hopping from tree to tree and filling the air around us with morning song. Eric notices their presence and mentions to me that he never gets that kind of escort when he's by himself. I just smile, feeling the energy around me filling my heart with warmth.

I hear the sound of rushing water just before we break through the trees lining the edge of a wide but shallow river. It flows slightly downhill, clear water bubbling around rocks and pebbles. I notice some places are deeper than others though it looks like our horses will have no problem finding a way across it. But Eric dismounts before we try and he ties his mount to a tree after allowing it a quick drink. I do the same and then stand waiting, curious to see what he has planned.

"Balance, Princess. It is everything in combat. Lose your balance and lose your head. Keep your balance, keep your power."

I nod, committing his words to memory. He bends and starts to take off his boots then motions that I do the same. I slip off my riding boots and when I stand again, he offers his hand and I take it. He nods down at our feet and I step on the rocks as he does, stepping from one to the next after getting my balance. I glance up at him and he smiles.

"Have you got it?"

I nod and slowly let go of his hand. He turns and picks his way across the stream to a narrow ridge of flat rock in the middle. I nearly over-balance at one point – holding my arms out to steady myself before following him out further. The stream runs faster in the middle and I bite my lip to concentrate, allowing myself a breath of relief when I get to his side. He grins at me and then draws two wooden swords from the belt at his hip.

I take the one he offers, determined not to show my nerves. He faces me, brandishing the sword.

"Defend," he says.

He steps toward me, arm raised, bringing the sword down. I block him with my forearm and then take a step in for the killing blow as he has taught me but the ridge is narrower than I realize and my bare foot slips on the edge. I begin to fall and he catches me with one arm around my waist.

"Careful." His voice is close to my ear. "Can't send you back home soaked to the skin now."

I am clutching his shoulder while I find my feet again. He sets me back, a small smile in place. I try and concentrate.

"Maintaining your footing is more important than going for the kill."

I nod, and this time when he attacks, I am careful to adjust my attack to stay balanced. He nods his approval and attacks again. I block this with my sword, the wood clashing and sending a jolt down my forearms. I counter and he has to take a step back; I feel a measure of pride at that. I take a further step forward and nearly topple again; he grabs my wrist to catch me. We grin at each other and he walks us back to where we started.

"It starts here." He places one large hand flat against my belly. I breathe in sharply but he doesn't seem to notice. "This is the core of your balance. Keep your center strong." He sheaths his wooden sword and then places his hands on my hips. I feel the warmth of his palms through the layers of my dress. I risk a glance at his face but he is looking down, intent on making his point.

"All your movement should come from here." He grips my hips and moves me gently forward and then to the side. My torso follows and I see what he is trying to say. "When you get thrown, come back here." He jolts me sideways again and then back to the middle and I find my center, nodding.

"Understand?" I look up and he is watching me. His hands have slid up to my waist and my hands are still in mid air and so I rest them on his arms. Flat footed I notice the height difference even more; my hands rest low on his arms, well short of his shoulders. He seems to be waiting for a response so I nod.

"Yes. I understand."

"Good."

He still doesn't move and I wonder what we must look like, standing here together like this. Then he lets his hands drop and takes a step back, drawing his sword.

"Again."

xxxxx

The hem of my dress becomes wet and heavy but I get better as the morning wears on. After we sit and have a short rest and some lunch on the riverbank, we head back into the river again, my confidence growing enough for us to head upstream where the rocks are smaller though the fast river is still shallow.

I am stepping between them well, advancing and then retreating without having to watch my feet and Eric commends me a few times. Then just as I am stepping back to reset for another drill, my foot slips off the side of a boulder. I try and right myself but I am already ankle deep in water; I feel the slime under my foot as it skids across a few stones. Eric lunges forward and catches my arm but not before I feel a sharp edge slice into the soft flesh of my sole.

I cry out and he catches me as I double over; I drop my sword into the water and it floats away, banging and bumping around the rocks. Eric ignores it, his head bent close.

"I've got you. Hold on to me." He wraps one arm around my back and scoops the other behind my legs, cradling me effortlessly. I do as he says and wrap my arms around his neck as he picks his way across the stones to the bank.

By the time we get there I can feel the blood dripping freely from my foot. He lowers me to the grass and takes my ankle, turning it to see the cut. The sharp stone has sliced across the outer edge of my sole. The cut is quite deep but it probably looks worse than it is; I find I'm concentrating more on the feel of his fingers gently cradling my heel. He makes an annoyed sound with his tongue.

"I'm sorry, Princess. Does it hurt?"

He turns to look in my eyes and I shake my head.

"No, it's fine – I'm fine, truly."

"I need something to stop the bleeding." He mutters as if to himself, looking around. When he begins to pull his shirt from his waistband I'm so stunned that I nearly sit there and let him. But I realize I don't want him ruining his clothes for me so I place a hand on his arm.

"No, wait don't do that." I shuffle forward and draw up the hem of my dress. He sits back on his heels, hands braced on his thighs. I take a handful of the simple petticoat I have underneath; it is an old one – the lightest one I own and I wear it to our sessions now so I can move easier. I try to rip it but my hands aren't strong enough to tear the calico. I glance up at him, expecting him to take over the job for me.

He hasn't moved, still kneeling with his hands on his thighs but I notice they are now balled into fists. He stares at seemingly nothing, but I notice a muscle flex in his jaw just in front of his ear. I watch him as he gives a tiny shake of his head and then moves to take the job of ripping the petticoat from me.

The tearing noise reminds me of the time in the Dark Forest, the first day we met – when he ripped my dress to let me walk more freely. As I watch him gently take my foot, it seems strange to remember that I was scared of him in that moment; worried about what he might do to me with just the two of us alone with no one else close enough to even hear me scream. It seems silly now, as he presses tightly against the wound, his enormous hand covering my foot entirely. Silly because now, being alone with him is when I feel the most safe.

The thought jolts me and I must react because he turns and finally looks at me.

"Ye' alright?"

I nod, avoiding his eyes least he see the truth there. "It's fine – really."

He turns his attention back to the blood stained calico, rewrapping it so a clean part of the cloth presses against the cut. It is sore now he is applying pressure to it but I bite my lip, determined not to show it.

We sit there in silence while he tries to stop the bleeding. I hold the wound as instructed as he moves to rip more of my petticoat. This time I keep my eyes off him and focus instead on a drop of blood trailing down a blade of grass beside me. Finally the blood flow stops pulsing enough for him to wrap the foot in a few strips of calico and tie it there.

I am looking at the neat job he has done of the dressing and miss it when he places a hand on my neck to turn my attention to him.

"Let's get you back."

I want to protest but I know that I can't do any more today. But even bleeding and wet, I'm still enjoying being on this riverbank with the sun warming my neck and shoulders – and I can even admit that is because of the company. He stands to go and get our things; I watch him as he crosses back over the river easily and then leads the horses across to me. I drink in the sight – the way his deft movements belie his size. He doesn't look at me once and I just let myself stare, at his long legs and narrow waist – the breadth of his powerful shoulders. I feel an odd coil of unease unfurl in my stomach; a premonition that this may be the last time I get to stare at him unashamedly. I do not waste one second of doing so.

When he comes back, the calico is soaked through with red again and I draw up my skirt, trying to find the diminishing petticoat. The light breeze coming off the river plays on my calves now and I revel in the feel of it. I notice he averts his eyes until I find the longest end of the petticoat and guide it into his hands. The muscles in his forearms bunch and twitch as he tears more strips and redresses my wound.

Without any words he finishes and then takes my hands, urging me to try and stand. I can place only limited weight on the foot without pain. He notices and again without consulting me, he bends to lift and cradle me easily and carries me to his horse. I have the good graces to be ashamed at the fact that I enjoy it – my arm around his shoulders, the feel of his hard chest against me, the breath from his nostrils on my cheek. All too soon he is lifting me up into the saddle of his horse as if I weigh nothing. He glances up as he shortens the stirrup for my good foot. I hold his gaze – not knowing how to deal with the feelings his touch has sent racing through me. He smiles though, just once and it is warm and puts me at ease. I smile back and we hold each other's gaze for a moment longer before he goes to bring my horse over too.

He leads both mounts into the trees on this side of the river, dropping my horse's reigns after a time when the trail gets more narrow and just trusting she will continue to follow. I don't know where we will come out but I have no doubt he knows where he's going. After a time though, it becomes apparent this side of the forest is thicker than the side we go through to reach our glade. I watch as he struggles to lead us through the unforgiving foliage and I feel terrible that I have caused this stress and drama.

Eventually he leads us through a break in the trees and we are in the open again, heading down a small slope. The sun has dropped lower in the sky and I have a fleeting moment of worry about the time. Then I see a small building I recognize from our trips to the glade – it is further away that usual and I am seeing the back of it but I still know we must be back in the small Hunter's Village.

We turn away from familiar buildings though, and into the trees once more for a short stretch before we happen upon a stone cottage with a thatch roof.

"We'll stop here and quickly get that foot sorted for the ride back to the castle." His voice sounds strained and then I realize with a start that this must be his house. I know he received the gold I promised him so long ago and I suppose he spent some of it on this. It is small but lovely and I am curious to see how he lives.

"I can't promise it to be verra tidy inside," Eric says without looking at me. He leads the horses to a water trough and ties them to a post there. Before I can figure out dismounting he is by my horse's side, reaching up for me. I lean down into him and my hands automatically find their place on his shoulders. He lifts me by my waist, so easily it is thrilling. When I am lowered to the ground and standing facing him I think of William and the way his every touch is measured. I realize that Eric touches me without asking me for permission. It is something he has always done and I decide then and there that I like it.

"Are ye okay to walk inside? I would carry ye but I wouldna want anyone to pass and think…"

He trails off and I find I can only nod, my cheeks flushing with heat for some unknown reason. He stoops to get my arm around his shoulders and then walks us to the heavy front door.

Inside it is small but light and airy; there is a solid table with two chairs, a fireplace with a few utensils for cooking, and – my stomach actually flips to look at it – a rather large bed under one of several windows.

"It's no' much but it does me fine." Eric murmurs as if apologizing.

"It's lovely," I reply.

He guides me to a chair and lowers me into it. I sit there and wait, enjoying looking around the room. Despite his words, it is rather tidy, there are a few dusty surfaces but books and other possessions are stacked neatly and in their place. The large bed is made with a lovely patchwork quilt and soft pillows, and it smells of wood, smoke and Eric.

He returns to the table with some clean cloth for a dressing and a pot of ointment that I cannot identify. It is open and it smells sweet, which is a welcome change from the foul smelling medicines our healers at the castle insist on using for wounds. He gestures to the pot as he kneels and begins to remove the calico from my foot again.

"Anna gave this to me the last time I visited the floating village. It is the best salve I have ever come across for cuts and scrapes- I'm hoping it can take care of cleaning your wound."

I nod – wanting to ask how often he visits the village but suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that I haven't. I think of him being there by himself with all those women and, unreasonably, am hit with a sudden stab of jealousy. Then his fingers take my ankle and I can think of nothing else.

He holds my leg gently with both hands and I watch as he frowns at the wound, turning it this way and that. His hands are so large they nearly cover my whole calf.

"Looks fairly clean." He rests my heel on his knee, takes a strip of cloth and dips it in the salve before drawing it across the wound. When he is satisfied, he takes more clean cloth and binds it firmly around my foot.

"How's the pain?"

"It's fine."

He studies my face and must see a more honest reply there because he gets up and returns with a skin that I know contains liquor.

"Drink some of that." I grimace and he smiles. "Just a little will take the edge off until we get you home."

I take the skin from him, reluctant but realistic. The liquid burns my throat and I cannot stop my face from screwing up. He gives a quiet laugh and takes it from me, having a swig himself. The fire settles as warmth in my belly though and I reach out for another sip. He passes it back, shaking his head.

"For heaven's sake don't be telling William of this. He'll have my head on a stick."

His grin slips when I meet his eyes and I see him follow the same thought process as me – William would not be happy about any of this. About me being injured, about me even being here, alone in another man's house, let alone drinking liquor with him too.

I take another swig before I answer. "I think it is best if we tell William… none of this at all." I do not speak loudly but my voice seems to resonate in the small room. Eric has pulled out a pair of boots from a chest in the corner and approaches me with them, kneeling at my feet again.

"Aye. I think that for the best as well." He says it without meeting my eyes.

He takes some warm knitted socks and begins to put one on my good foot. I nearly protest that I can do it myself but he dresses me with such sure movements that I decide to sit and let him.

"These will be a wee bit big for you but I think that'll be a good thing." He concentrates on slipping the first boot on to my good foot. He is right – it is too big, but the thick sock helps and when he places the boot on my injured foot, I realize they will be perfectly fine for getting me back to the castle. Once both are on he lowers my feet to the ground, looking at them again. I have a sudden hunch and I decide to ask him.

"Were these your wife's?" I ask quietly.

He nods. "Aye, lass. I hope that's okay with ye."

I bite my lip, touched. "I hope that's okay with you too."

"Big boots to fill," he says, and I know it is his attempt at a light remark. But his smile doesn't reach his eyes and I find I cannot muster my own smile either. He worries his bottom lip for a moment, studying me. "You do that, though."

I look at him, not knowing what to say. He looks surprised at himself also and eventually we both look away.

When we leave the cottage the sun is noticeably lower and we mount up quickly. The boots and the thick socks make it possible for me to walk passably well and I find they fit the stirrups enough to help me ride too. We ride fast, both bent low over our horse's necks. Dark grey clouds threaten from the west and by the time we near the castle gates, they have swept across the darkening sky, intercepting us. The downpour catches us just before we reach the street that leads to the castle stables and even in the short time it takes to reach the stalls and hand our horses to the stable boys, we are both drenched. Eric helps me down and we walk together without a word, heading for the throne room.

I push my hands through my wet hair. The ride home worked it completely loose and it hangs in wet ropes about my face. I must look like a drowned rat. I try and catch an idea of my reflection in the colored windows of the long corridor.

"I must look a fright," I muse aloud.

"You look nothing of the sort." I glance across at Eric and he grins. "You look beautiful."

I feel the breath stolen from me in a rush and it is a moment before I realize I have just been staring at him as we walk, my mouth still open. Flustered, I try and think of something to say.

"I'm your Queen, you have to say that."

He tears his eyes away from me, focusing on the end of the hallway as he answers.

"No, in fact that is exactly why I should _not_ say that."

I watch as a muscle flexes in his jaw but he does not look back at me.

I feel a new lightness to my step as we round the corner and arrive at the corridor leading to the throne room despite my growing nerves that it is late and that I can't walk faster to speed our return.

William is standing with the guards beside the throne room doors.

For a moment, I consider turning and running before he sees us. But in the second it takes for me to realize not only is that unreasonable but it's impossible because of my foot, he turns.

I see his frown of disapproval from some distance away as we approach. I try to minimize my limp as much as possible and I notice that Eric slows our pace to help.

"There you are! What in the world, my Queen…"

William's eyes dart between us, taking in our bedraggled appearance. He embraces me but the gesture feels more possessive than affectionate. He sets me back from him to look me up and down.

"Where have you been? Are you injured?"

"No, I'm fine, my Lord…"

"You were limping."

I open my mouth to answer but my mind is full of images of the day; warm fingers on my ankle, the hardness of Eric's chest against me, the look in his eyes as he placed the boots upon my feet. I search for something simple to say but the silence is stretched and noticeable.

Eric clears his throat. "Your Highness, I must apologize – I decided we should move to softer ground to avoid injury." He makes a show of glancing at the guards and it appeals to William's need for discretion. William nods curtly and Eric continues, lowering his voice. "The stables afforded that but a skittish horse reared and the Queen was in its path."

I finally find my voice again. "It was nothing – she just stamped on my foot. I will be fine, William." He still frowns and glances down at my feet that are thankfully covered enough by my long skirts so he cannot see the boots I wear instead of my riding shoes.

"Very well." The tone William attempts is light but I know him well enough to hear the edge of irritation in it. "As long as you have come to no significant harm."

William links his arm with mine. "Let us go and prepare for dinner. Eric."

The King's dismissal is curt and Eric bends at the waist, bowing as the guards might expect. The sight of it makes me feel cold but when he lifts his head he catches my eye and gives me the barest hint of a wink. It doesn't feel conspiratorial – more sympathetic, and that saddens me even more.

xxxx

I do not expect him at dinner but to my surprise he is there, in the seat next to me. William shows no reaction to his presence but he has been unusually quiet since he dropped me at my quarters earlier. He acknowledges Eric but then gets straight into deep discussion with his father.

Eric and I don't speak beyond a simple greeting but I am overly conscious of his every movement, his hand reaching for his mug, his long fingers rearranging his cutlery. I become aware of my heart galloping in my chest – pounding so hard I wonder irrationally if anyone else will hear it, even over the din of the dining room. Eric places his hand next to mine on the table and somehow I feel certain that he just stopped himself from laying it atop of mine.

"Everything alright?" His murmured words do nothing to quell the feeling of intimacy between us and I purposely don't glance at him when I reply.

I contemplate my answer for a long time before I finally let go of one syllable.

"No."

I feel his deep intake of breath. We sit, both motionless and I feel as if I am humming with energy. I look up at him; hold his blue-eyed gaze far longer than is proper. It is only a serving girl making a timely appearance that saves us.

William turns back to me. "Snow, tomorrow we are riding out to assess a new herd of wild horses that have been corralled on the far plains beyond the green forest. Will you join me?"

I take a mouthful of food to give me an excuse to delay my answer. I cannot deny the sinking disappointment that grips me at his words – an overwhelming surge of regret at the thought of missing a training session with Eric tomorrow. The feeling is so sudden and violent that it nearly chokes me.

I nod, fixing a smile firmly on my face and directing it to my husband. "Of course."

He smiles back with a satisfied nod. "Excellent." He leans past me to address Eric who is watching his plate and I'm unsure if he heard our exchange. "I am sorry, Eric, I will need to borrow your student for a few days. You can have her back when we return."

The naivety of his statement sends a jolt of guilt through me but Eric nods amicably. "Of course. It will give me a chance to tend to matters at home."

Again the sinking regret spreads through me so thoroughly that I actually feel hot tears pricking the backs of my eyes. I force myself to stare at my plate and focus my energy there, determined not to let anyone know of the irrational emotions swirling through me.

A loud crack renders the air and I startle. It is loud enough to turn the heads of several people seated nearby and have Eric rise half out of his seat, looking for a threat.

I look down at my plate to see it has been divided cleanly in half, the sides fallen away from the large crack down the middle of the porcelain. I stare at it in confusion, only just aware of William taking my wrist. Eric lowers himself slowly back into the chair, eyes on me too.

"Was that…?" William's voice trails off and we all look at the broken plate with likely the same thought running through our minds.

_Was that me?_

I sit there, staring at the utensils in my hands until William helps me lower them and Eric discretely moves my goblet and his own to shield the plate from a few eyes.

"Are you hurt?" Eric's low voice breaks through my stupor. I shake my head, staring at him to bring myself back to the present.

"No…no, I'm fine." There is a peculiar ringing in my ears but I decide not to mention that. Eric seems restless all of a sudden, like a caged animal. I feel William rise to stand behind me and the court follows suit. Eric waits for me to stand, his hand hovering by mine. I try and smile at him but I can feel it doesn't reach my eyes.

When William gets me out to the hall he places an arm around my shoulders.

"What happened then, my love?"

I shrug, genuinely confused by the whole night entirely. I feel all at once heavily tired to my bones. "I do not know, William."

He draws us to a stop outside my rooms, brushing my forehead with his fingers. "Do not worry yourself. It was likely some fault with the dish." He smiles and I do find a measure of reassurance in it. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow, Snow. I have missed you, you know."

I try and muster a smile but find I am thinking of nothing other than falling into my bed. But I know I must reply and so I squeeze his arm.

"As have I."

"Get some rest, my love. I will see you in the morning."

The tiredness threatens to overwhelm me so that I nearly fall into bed without taking off my outer garments. The thin slice of moon in the sky casts a little light through the window as I crawl to my pillow and curl into a ball. I have time to have only a collection of dreamlike thoughts; the taste of whiskey, wind in my hair, a muscle flexing in a bearded jaw and fingertips on my ankle, before I surrender to a deep and welcome sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

Eric.

* * *

In the morning, I am up before the deep blue of dawn begins to wash the sky. From the window of my ridiculously lush room in the castle, I watch the light as it begins to take the land and try to counsel myself wisely, knowing full well that I am a fool who will not listen.

_Leave now, Eric. Go back to your home, lead a quiet life. Forget how it feels to lift her against you, forget the pretty flush of her cheeks. Forget the way your hands nearly circle her waist and how easy it would be to grasp her there and lift her until her face is level with yours, until you are sharing every breath taken by those blood red lips. Leave now, while your head is still attached to your shoulders. Leave her to her husband. _

I click my tongue in my throat, heeding the sensible advice and simultaneously throwing it headlong to the wind. I cannot stay away from the girl; I try, but I cannot. I adjust my weapons and walk out of the fancy room with its hard bed and velvet furnishings and down the empty corridors, towards the stables.

The stable boy doesn't hear me approach and is startled out of sleep, hurrying to do my bidding with bleary eyes. The stable has been busy; the horse's royal attire is hanging ready for the ride out this morning. Load of pompous posturing if you ask me - alerting any band of robbers or misfits that you may meet that you are in fact royalty and therefore likely carrying something of significant value on or about your person. If William wanted to keep his wife safe, he could do worse than toning down the constant announcing of her presence to all and sundry.

I ride out of town, heading for the stand of trees beyond the first village, just before the land begins to slope away to the valley. I know the travelling party has a few options of paths to take once they leave the castle gates but the King's guard is nothing if not predictable. They will take the same tired route out of the kingdom that they always do.

Sure enough, as dawn finally breaks, the King's party rides out of the castle gates, flags waving and crest prominent. I wait until they are on the wide path leading out of the village before I ride out into the open towards them. Only one of the guards halts his horse and reaches for his crossbow, wary of a lone rider approaching, and I silently commend the man, taking note of him. William recognizes me quickly though and calls the man to stand down.

I dip my head in greeting and try and keep my eyes off the Queen, sitting erect in her saddle just behind her husband. William's smile is welcoming but fails to reach his eyes.

"Well met, Huntsman! How fare thee this morning?"

I nod. "Well, Your Majesty."

William waits for me to say more and I continue with my carefully planned words.

"It occurred to me this morning, you may require an extra set of experienced eyes on the horses you seek to acquire. I have ridden out to offer my own, should you find the help agreeable."

My gaze slips disobediently to the Queen and I see the ghost of a sad little smile playing on those lips. I consider it a small victory, knowing that she does not smile easily.

William, however, is eyeing me with a measure of irritation. As predicted though, his need to save face overrides his desire to get rid of me. He nods and gestures expansively.

"Of course, Eric – you are a welcome addition to any travelling party. An oversight not to consider it…an excellent idea." He smiles gamely and I ride towards them, estimating my position to be a few rows behind the King's chief aides. I figure I may get an opportunity to catch eyes with Snow as I pass but the King speaks again.

"Ride alongside me, Eric."

I move in next to the King and notice a few companions looking rather put out as they jostle their horses back to allow for mine. I nod at Snow as I turn my mount.

"Your Highness."

She nods back, lips no longer curved, serious eyes wide and unreadable.

William engages me in conversation for the entire ride down the valley. We discuss the qualities I have learnt to look for in wild horses set to be tamed and he is genuinely interested in my opinion; so much so that after a time I know he feels more than justified in adding me to the faction.

If I am honest, I am enjoying talking with him too. I have always liked William; have always been impressed with his courage and his fight. When they married I was happy to see him as Snow's companion, and I knew I could never seriously be considered for the role. He is a good King, if a little overly concerned with protocol though I think his father has a lot to do with enforcing that. No, I've always been fond of the lad and would consider him a friend even, if not for the unfortunate fact that I find I cannot stop thinking about his wife.

I think on the situation as we draw to single file to get through a stand of trees. I had been more than happy when William approached me to train Snow to defend herself; from an outside perspective, the castle lacked adequate safety measures for their Queen and I nearly jumped at the chance to rectify that. I suppose that had been why I didn't just leave – why I stayed on in a fairly uneventful role in the hunting village. I did not want to be too far away from her, even though I felt foolish for assuming she might still need me.

Now, with things unfolding as they have, I am too close to her, I know too much.

I know the slope of her neck when she is deep in thought. I know the curve of her leg as high as the soft place behind her knee. I know she bites her lip when she is frustrated and I know the scent of her after a day's toil and sweat.

I know I am not altogether sane to be having these treasonous thoughts while riding alongside the King.

But it is a reoccurring theme of late – where logic and reason once existed for me there lies only desire I cannot control.

The travelling party makes good time through the valley and we arrive at a large flat plain suitable for camp before sundown. The horses are held at a fishing village on the far coast, two days travel from the castle. I shake my head as I go about taking my saddle from my horse, thinking on how four days had seemed far too long to be without Snow – that it had seemed the only option, to invite myself along. I knew I wasn't going to be spending a lot of time with her, but something in me felt better knowing she was only a glance away.

I look for her now as the men erect the large tents we will use for the night. I suppress my irritation when I see the flags going up on the tents – again advertising the status and potential bounty of the occupants.

"Something bothering you, Huntsman?"

I whip around to her voice, impressed that she could sneak up on me. I smile, glad she is here and close.

"No, m'lady."

Her ladies maid stands by her shoulder, which I find amusing for some reason -it seems odd to see her with a chaperone.

"You're a terrible liar, Eric. I heard the irritation in the click of your tongue."

I smile at her candor. "The flags. I didna understand why we announce our presence so."

She turns her head to regard them and I'm glad because it gives me a moment to stare at her. God in heaven but she is beautiful.

"A fair point. I will discuss it with William."

I nod, wishing for something more to say before I remember her injury. I lower my voice some and she instinctively steps closer to listen.

"How is your foot today?"

She is close enough that I can feel the pull of her and I am glad the horse we stand beside blocks us from view of the majority. She looks up at me and the desire to take her from here is so strong it is almost palpable.

"Fine, thank you. That salve you gave me has healed it particularly well."

I would like to check but cannot imagine taking the Queen's boot off and caressing her ankle would be a wise thing to do in front of her guard of soldiers and my King.

"Good," I say. "Perhaps our next training should be indoors."

She places her palm on my horse's flank, measuring her next words I think. I run my own hand along its back, considering that to someone observing us, we could be discussing the horse.

"Please don't say that. I so look forward to our excursions."

I risk a glance at her but she is watching her hand, carefully keeping her eyes away from mine. I turn back to the horse too but I can't hold back my answer.

"As do I."

"They are all I can think about, in fact," she adds.

And with that she turns abruptly and is gone, in a whirl of skirts and with the maid hurrying to pick her way through the mud behind her.

Leaving me to spend the rest of the night alone with that comment, knowing she is sleeping only a stone's throw away with a few thin canvas walls between us.

* * *

The next morning we head out early after a small breakfast is handed out to all – the perks of travelling with royalty. I do not catch sight of her until we are riding, heading east. It takes the better part of the day to reach the village and I do not get to speak to her or William at all. I content myself with fantasies – as I have been prone to doing lately.

I do not feel guilty because I am a man and I was always taught that it is healthy for a man to have a sexual appetite. Sarah's nearly matched my own so I believe it is the same for women too. I have always toyed with the idea of Snow in my head, right from the minute I met her, wondering if she would be shy and timid in bed or the firebrand that I know she can be when challenged. As I watch her move in the saddle a short distance in front of me, I cannot shake my suspicion that it would be the later.

I picture her straddling me, hair loose and spilling down her shoulders and over her chest, my hands on her hips and feeling her move. I have to change my line of thought a few times to stay comfortable in my saddle.

Well before sundown, we crest the hill overlooking the windblown coast and I get something else to occupy my mind. We make our way down to a large fishing village set on the shoreline against the ragged cliffs and as we descend, I can see the wild horses corralled in the distance. I watch them as they swarm inside the large area ringed with a tall fence; chestnuts and arabs, piebalds and mottled greys. I note which is the lead stallion and his pack and the other hierarchies of the herd by the time we get to the flat. William motions me forward once we ride up to the fence.

We spend some time talking with the men of the village who captured the horses, long enough for me to ascertain that they know their trade. William wants this trip to be as short as possible so we arrange for a few of his advisors – including me - to check over the herd tomorrow and make decisions about purchases. After that we will be on our way. We could have done that all tonight but William knows the villagers wish to host a feast for their King and Queen tonight and wisely allows them that honor.

The royal tents are erected on a small slightly rocky plain tucked in next to the cliffs. I am unhappy about the location – though I know it means the most shelter, it also gives us only one route of escape. I know it is not my job to decide these things though so I let it go, contenting myself on checking the general area around Snow's tent, pacing out the escape path if she needed it.

I don't know why I'm on edge; the people of this fishing village seem like friendly enough folk. I just can't help but feel she is exposed to danger constantly and no amount of training would make me feel assured of her absolute safety. Still, as I watch the sun sink below the ocean horizon, I feel glad to be here, glad to be close.

The town hall, a large building made of logs, has been painstakingly cleaned and decorated for the occasion of the King and Queen's visit. Wild flowers have been stuffed into vases on the long tables and while our men seem to have a lot of elbow room, the village people sit against the walls and at the back of the long room, content to catch a glimpse of their Queen. So the room is packed to capacity but it is warm; the ale cold and the food good and before long the men are enjoying themselves. The serving lasses are young and rosy cheeked and I can tell several men will be slipping from their tents tonight. The village has also marched out their daughters in what must be their finest gowns, hurriedly mended and tidied for the rare occasion of eligible men passing through town.

One is seated across from me, a lass with pretty blue eyes called Nessa. She is seventeen at the most, and she is trying so gamely to start conversation with me that I find myself obliging.

"It must be a privilege to hunt for the Queen."

I nod. "That it is."

Nessa glances up at the head table for the umpteenth time, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of Snow.

"She is so beautiful. The rumors are not an exaggeration."

I find myself staring at Snow too, as she smiles politely at something one of the village's elders says.

"Aye. Beautiful."

I turn back to the girl and realize too late that she is watching me, eyes wide. Flustered, I search for an appropriate answer.

"Though hers is not the only beauty in this room tonight."

It is the perfect thing to say to divert her attention but it means she hangs on my every word for the rest of the night, touching my hand when she can, leaning forward to give me the best view of her minimal cleavage. I am trying not to look up at the head table too much but one of the few times I do, I catch Snow looking over at me. She holds my gaze long enough that I have time to raise my glass and lift it to her in a toast. She nods back but there is a sadness in her expression I can't place. I leave soon after she does, hoping to see her in the camp but to no avail.

As predicted, many of the men leave the tent that night- so many that even undercover of darkness it seems as if the camp is still awake, rather than it being the middle of the night. One of the men comes to shake my shoulder, telling me his girl is asking for me on behalf of Nessa. I just shake my head and turn over, feeling a pang of guilt. A part of me would like to go and get a much-needed release of tension but I know it would become more complicated than that. Besides, when I close my eyes, it is not blue eyes I see but brown, with long dark lashes on skin as pale as snow.

The next day we are up early to examine the horses. I make my selections fairly quickly but make a show of continuing to assess them, so that the traders won't be able to guess my preferences. The head of the King's guard, a tall, wiry red headed soldier called Raith, is the other man whose advice the King is keen to hear. He struts around the yard, loudly proclaiming the merits and failings of each horse and I wish I could stuff a fist in his mouth to shut him up.

"Huntsman."

I turn to see her at the lowest part of the fence, small hands on the railing. Her ladies maid stands beside her and I curse protocol for the servant girl's constant presence. I walk across the muddied ground to where she stands.

"Your Majesty." I dip my head, and then smirk at the irritated twist of her lips. I know she doesn't like the formal address any more than it feels natural to me to say it but we both know at times I have to show the decorum expected. I think it may be why she is calling me Huntsman again, instead of my name.

"Have you seen anything you like?"

I have to bite my lip for a bit to stop the obvious answer coming out.

"Yes, milady, there are some fine specimens in this lot."

"Tell me which ones you are watching."

I lean my shoulder against the railing, describing the horses I favor. She follows well and refrains from pointing and I feel a surge of pride for her. If only that fool Raith could show her restraint.

"Fine choices, all of them," she says, "though the black has an average heart. And the piebald will be miserable without that chestnut with the white foot."

I just stop myself from whipping my head around in surprise. Then an image of her with the white stag comes to mind and I curse inwardly, wondering how I could have forgotten. I decide to say as much.

"Forgive me, my Queen, I should've consulted with you earlier. I forgot that you would have more insight than any of us on this matter."

"You are not the only one."

I glance at her profile then and see her looking over at William, her brows serious and jaw set. Desire wells up in me at glimpsing that firebrand that I know she could be.

"My apologies."

She turns back to me, a faint smile haunting her tempting mouth.

"It is of no consequence, Eric. You have the matter firmly in hand." She smiles. "How do you come to know so much about horses?"

I shrug. "My father. He knew horses. Took me along a few times to bidding auctions. I figured the rest out for myself."

She makes a noise of interest and then looks back to the herd, her expression thoughtful. "It seems a shame to see these horses corralled like this." Her gaze is sad, but then she seems to shake the emotion off. "I suppose it is necessary for the Kingdom. And they will be treated well."

I decide to take a small liberty. "It is always a shame to see a wild thing tamed."

She turns large eyes to me and _there_, I glimpse the woman at her core. That spark of life, that hint of desire not dampened. Just a brief glimpse of it and then she looks away.

"I suppose it is," she answers, before stepping back from the rail and moving away. I dip my head in reply and wish I could have spoken with her longer.

I go over to William and Raith joins us so I finally get to threaten him – in low and even tones – that if he doesn't use more discretion, we will be paying all the gold in the kingdom for these horses. His full brows knit and he glares at me but he shuts up and that's all that matters. William nods his agreement and so we get down to the business of working out which horses we will be vying for.

After a long discussion in – thankfully, finally - hushed tones, we settle on thirteen horses that we will bid for. I am just about to take my leave when William calls me back.

"Eric. Will you join us for the negotiation?"

I can feel the daggers Raith is staring at me. "My lord?"

"I am certain you will be of help."

It is on the tip of my tongue to suggest that perhaps his wife would be too. But then it occurs to me that suggesting anything to the King about his wife is inappropriate – especially considering my recent thoughts about her. I look across at the horses and know instantly I would know how much is too much for any of them. I nod once, accepting.

"It would be my pleasure."

William grins. "Excellent."

* * *

Three hours and several jugs of ale later we have reached an agreement that both parties are happy with. William is well into his cups and I'm feeling a little worse for wear myself. The negotiation had been a pleasure, with the traders of course attempting to extort as much as possible but eventually accepting a price that was fair, along with a generous top up from the King. Raith had long since left the table – his rigid manner not befitting to the easy rapport we had gained with the village men.

I look around at the faces here, warm and friendly. The ales are being served by several bonny lasses, including Nessa who glances my way a lot. I nod at her once, tipping my glass and she flushes prettily. I curse inside – knowing I could fit in to a village like this so easily. Take another wife, have some children; start again. If I just left the kingdom, things would be easier.

But the strength of what I want pulls me; I cannot deny it. Every time I think on how fruitless it is to want the Queen – a married woman no less and that is only one of many reasons why she is not a match for me – I find the logic will not prevail. I want her, yes. I think she might want me back – in her less-than-sane moments, perhaps. I know I will never have her. And yet the idea of dying a lonely old man who waited on any moment he could savor with his Queen is not enough to deter me as yet.

'I see it, you know." William's voice by my ear startles me – I have a horrible and irrational thought that perhaps he can read minds.

"My lord?"

"The girl. That one."

He nods as Nessa approaches with two more jugs of ale. Her small breasts bounce as she walks.

"She is sweet on you."

I turn my head, hiding my relieved smile least Nessa think it's for her. "Perhaps, my lord."

"Perhaps, he says." William nudges me and again I feel a wave of affection for the lad. God's teeth, but I am a mess.

"I've never properly thanked you, Eric. For everything." William slings an arm around me and then I know he is truly drunk. "Snow… the lessons, she trusts you so. I trust you too." He has a finger pointed in to my chest now and I feel like a cad and a scoundrel.

I slow my drinking, knowing I'll be helping the King to his tent later. Sure enough, when we have no doubt drunk the village out of ale, the men stumble out of the hall towards our site. Guards had been stationed outside as chaperones but still I am on edge for an ambush, glad I slowed my drinking more than I usually would. I marvel at that, as we walk back to the tents. I have never found it easy to show restraint with the drink before. But now it seems when it comes to Snow, it is simple. My conscience could still do with drowning but perhaps since meeting her, my sorrows need less.

I leave William at his tent, his voice and its bawdy suggestions about finding Nessa following after me. I grin at them as I walk away and then I glance up and catch sight of the Queen through the doorway of her tent. She wears a gown of soft blue and her pitch black hair has been brushed out and left to float about her shoulders. She glances up and sees me. I stand stock still, eyes locked with hers, drinking her in. I know this is how she would look if she came to my bed. She stares back at me, all at once vulnerable and challenging. I ache for her.

We stay like that for too long and I wonder if she wants me to do something. To arrange to come to her; to help her find a way to come to me. In that moment I would do it – whatever she bade. Then her maid catches sight of me and pulls some inner curtain hurriedly to preserve her Queen's dignity.

I carry on through the mud, back to my own tent.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

We are up early, preparing the horses for travel. I am nervous about herding them, wondering if the men are experienced enough, but perhaps that is only because I know little of the plan. I seek William out as soon as he has risen – looking like he would like to remove his own pounding head. It will take us two days to get them back to the castle; the plan is to take them along the coast, using the sea on one side to keep the horses on track. I strongly suggest taking them up through the valleys, as the trip along the beach could be arduous and unpredictable but Raith holds fast to his plan, not wanting to yield to me in particular. I war with laboring the point, not looking forward to two days of salt water in my face but in the end, the King is in no mood for arguments. I move away and go about helping prepare the men who will shepherd the horses.

The sun is already travelling across the sky by the time we leave. Nessa makes a point of approaching me on my horse with a small fabric wrapped token. I nod my thanks and take it as she encourages me to visit again soon. When I glance at Snow she is watching me but averts her eyes quickly.

As predicted, it is hell moving the horses.

I spend the day pushing my gelding until he is spent, cutting in for men who don't know what they're doing. Black sand and gravel fly constantly and make their way into everything; hair, teeth. The wind is low thankfully but it still whips saltwater relentlessly in our faces so it is a sweet relief to get to the first proposed camp. Raith thinks we should go further but William, whether it is the murderous look I give Raith or his own hangover, decides we will camp where we are. There is a neat nook set against the cliff wall that will hold the horses and keep them sheltered with minimal fencing and guards on patrol.

I want to fall straight into bed but I last long enough to take a dip in the freezing ocean, loathing the fact that it is salt water but happy for the wash all the same. I grab my daily food ration and fall asleep eating it on my bedroll.

The next day is much the same, driving and relentless work, frustration at moving along the soggy coastline. I see a trail that we could lead the horses up to go further inland but Raith refuses to even consider taking it and keeps pushing us along the coast. It is not until afternoon that I notice ominous clouds rolling in and I curse loudly, wishing I had dug my heels in about heading inland.

"Your Majesty, we must find a way inland or find a safe place to make camp. Bad weather approaches."

I point up to the sky and several sets of nervous eyes follow along with William's. The clouds are light grey but I have seen clouds just like them turn into roiling masses with frightening speed before.

Raith scoffs and I swear I only just hold back from knocking his teeth down his throat. "That will blow over. We stick to the plan."

"No." Snow rides forward and the men part for her. "Eric is right. The animals are nervous; a storm is coming."

William nods, decided. "We camp then. Eric, the first suitable spot?"

I nod but just as I do, drops of rain start to fall. We collectively decide to stay where we are; the horses are in a small area and should be fine if they huddle together. Men hurry to erect tents close to the cliff face and manage to get them up just as the raindrops turn heavy, falling with more frequency. I see Snow duck inside one tent and note its position before I am happy; I stay on my horse and head to the herd, planning to see the storm out with them. I raise my hood just as the sky opens and ride back and forth along the line where the horses could bolt.

The sky darkens at an incredible rate, until it feels like nighttime even though there had been a few hours until sundown. I'm surprised to see a lone rider approach me and the other two men that have stayed out to brave the elements and control the horses – more surprised even when I realize it is William. He surveys the scene; the horses huddled effectively together against the cliff, the men pacing the line with me. He gestures if all is well and I signal yes, just as a crack of lightening laces the sky.

The horses whinny and stamp and I attempt to make soothing noises that are immediately drowned out by the rumbling clouds. The wind whips faster and I see the horses startle, the whites of their eyes showing as they prance nervously. I contemplate getting Snow to calm the stallion so the rest of the herd would follow suit but I don't want to put her in that amount of danger. I gauge the distance and position to her tent so that I know how far away she is in case I need to make it there.

Then the darkness and noise descends on us like the storm has come to rest on our very heads.

The wind howls like some mythical beast, screaming up the sheer sides of rock. Rain seems to come from every direction, stinging my face and the uncanny darkness thickens; somehow the already gray day has turned near black. I hear shouts and I can barely make out anything a few feet in front of me; I point my gelding's nose towards where I guess the rock face to be, abandoning the idea of keeping the horses corralled. They are lost to us now; they will either huddle or bolt, and I need to warn as many as possible to stay out of their way.

A dark shape hurtles past me and I know it is too late; the horses are spooked and running. I arrive at the cliff face, grateful that my gelding is still choosing to listen to my directions rather than run but his ears are turning in near circles and his shoulders twitch with fear. I make slow progress along the wall until a wild flapping catches the corner of my eye – the tip of a flag. My heart leaps when I see it is attached to a tent and that tent is still for the moment intact, though it is taking a battering from the strong winds. I hear and feel another frantic horse whistle past a few feet away and I leave my horse to the safety of the wall and dive in the opening of the tent.

Snow is there and the relief at seeing her is staggering. I grab her arm before I realize what she is doing; her maid is holding on to the center post of the tent with both arms, eyes squeezed shut, refusing to budge. Snow is pulling at her, trying to get her to leave the tent and as soon as I figure that out, I wrap an arm around the girl's waist and wrench her off the pole. She screams and flails but at least she comes free and Snow grips my coat, ready to follow. I make my way out of the tent – its walls moving like they're made of water – and towards the cliff face. I get the maid there and Snow grasps her by the shoulders, shouting into her face. I can barely hear the words over the nightmarish wind and rain but it sounds like she is giving the advice I would have – stay here, against the wall, keep out of the way in case the animals are bolting.

The girl's eyes are as white and wild as the scared horses and she cannot concentrate on Snow's words. She looks up at me, skittish, then she turns, running from us, and out into the dark, back towards the tent in a panic. Snow screams and I lunge at her, roping an arm around her waist to stop her going after the girl and into certain danger.

Grey shapes race past in the murky darkness; I hear a sickening collision of flesh and bone and a horse rears out from the shadows, scared eyes sighting us for a second before it turns and is lost to the mist again.

I press Snow against the wet cliff face, feel her sobbing through her back. After a time I make her move, inching along the rock in the relentless rain that has turned to sleet now, looking for my gelding but knowing in my heart that he is gone. Snow gradually becomes more obliging, feeling for the cliff face. There is no point in talking – the wind is taking our voices from our very mouths. I hear muffled shouts and frightened whinnies but they seem further and further away. The gravel at our feet changes to larger stones and then rocks that we are forced to climb around. Snow stumbles and I catch her – these rocks are hard to negotiate, but I am glad to have come upon them; we need to get off the sand and this signals a piece of headland that we had been nearing. I am certain there will be small caves and crevices in the wall here that we can grab some shelter in.

Sure enough, I come across cracks in the wall; places along the seams that offer a little protection. We pass two that are just small fissures and would offer refuge but not much; the last though, offers a small but deep pocket in the rock. I feel around to get a gauge on its size and I see it will fit both of us, just, and has an overhang that will keep us dry from the rain. Whether or not it is above any tide that is coming soon is another story but for now, I am happy for any dry accommodation whatsoever.

I bundle her in there, and she tucks neatly into one corner in a crouch. I have to bend a lot more to get in but I can straighten to sit inside. The sound of the storm is muffled in here, the difference in noise level so significant it feels like silence compared to the din we have been battling. I try and check her over for injuries but there is only minimal light coming in from outside.

"Are ye okay? Are ye hurt at all?"

I can't see her clearly but I recall from the glimpse of her in the tent that she is in the dress she wears riding but has no cloak on at all. She doesn't answer me for some time and I shake her gently at her shoulders, noting the fabric on her arms is soaking wet.

"Snow? Answer me."

I feel more than see her shake her head, and a sob escapes her. "Lily."

I realize that must be the name of her maid. I know it would be a miracle if the girl survived, panicked as she was and running blindly into chaos with wild horses on the loose but I don't wish to dispel any hope Snow may have left. I move my hand up to her neck and then her head, cradling her face with one of my hands.

"Maybe she got to safety."

I feel her shake her head and I immediately feel foolish for even trying to sell her such a falsehood. With my hand on her though, I can feel how violently she shakes, can feel her teeth chattering.

"Come here," I say, shifting to accommodate her under my coat.

She hesitates; I feel her body go rigid. There is a pause where I can hear more horses screaming outside mixed with the howling wind.

"I'm not sure that is the right thing to do."

Her voice is so quiet that I barely catch it. And I know what she means – this is the last thing that we need in regards to each other now but I am dammed if I will let propriety get in the way of keeping her alive.

"The right thing to do is survive." I try and twist to take off my long coat but I can barely move in the tight space. Instead, I open it and reach forward for her, finding her and pulling her fiercely into my lap.

It is all at once the right thing to do and a huge mistake.

With her against me, I can feel how thin her dress is but I feel her warmth against my chest immediately. She lets out a sigh that I'm sure is relief for the warmth of my arms around her. I rub my hands on her back and her arms, trying to generate more heat. Eventually she tucks her head into my neck and rests against my shoulder. I pull my coat around her back as best as I can, shifting my weight to get more comfortable against the rock.

"I must be heavy on your legs," she mumbles.

The weight of her is the least of my worries and I tell her so. "You weigh nothing, it's fine. You're keeping me warm."

She nods into my neck and I fight against the blood threatening to speed within me – to all the wrong places. I try and think of something else to focus on.

"Your maid's name… it is Lily?" I don't mean to upset her further but I know she is thinking of her companion whether I mention her or no.

"Lily. She is kind and very smart." Her voice catches and I notice we both avoided using the word was.

I rub her back out of comfort this time. "I'm sorry I didn't catch her."

She places another small hand on my opposite shoulder and squeezes. "You tried. Thank you for coming for me."

I just clench my jaw, not willing to consider that there could ever be any alternative. I will always find a way to her, this I know now. For as long as she wants me around.

We sit in the cave for some time while the weather thrashes the cliff outside. She dozes against me; I close my eyes a few times and I think I catch some sleep as well, I'm not entirely sure. That may be because everything feels dreamlike - it feels far too good to be holding her like this, considering the circumstances especially. I rest my lips against the top of her head; she smells like flowers and salt water.

As the storm rages on, I wonder if we will just remain silent like this for the entire time. I don't know if that would bother me or not; I just know I am grateful for every minute. Then, just when I think she is asleep, she shifts.

"Eric?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry for what I said the other day. That…that I think of our time together often."

I knew what she was talking about as soon as she mentioned it. I choose my next words very carefully.

"Don't apologize, Princess. I would admit to the same …if it wasn't a matter of treason."

My words hang heavy in the small space; she stays unnaturally still.

Then I feel her hand on my face, her fingertips softly burrowing into my beard. My own hands tighten on her – one on her arm and the other on her knee, pressing her dangerously close. There is a moment where I fear that she will move her face to mine _and so help me I will not be able to control myself_ but thankfully she seems to think better of it; throwing her arm around my neck in something like an embrace. I loop my arms around her body too, pressing my face into her shoulder instead.

We stay like that for a long time and she sleeps.

I must doze too because when I wake, I hear immediately that the wind and rain are still wild outside but not as violent as before. My legs are likely asleep but she is still lying in my arms so I am strangely content.

I hear voices outside, one in particular - William, calling Snow's name.

Some source of light has crept into the small cave and I not only feel her now, but I can see her. She sits up but doesn't look toward the opening, dark hair hanging in damp tendrils between us, full lips slightly parted. I dare not look into her eyes but I take note of how our bodies are breathing together, chests rising in rapid unison, warmth radiating between us. I know she hears William too, and for a moment I wonder if she is actually awake. Then her small hand slides down from my shoulder, resting on my chest and over my racing heart.

Her face is close, too close. My hand rises of its own accord to slip under her hair and along her jaw. We have seconds before we are discovered and I fear that if I do not kiss her now, I will never have the opportunity again. She tilts her head just fractionally as if she wants what I want but cannot be the one to do it.

"Tell me to stop," I whisper, a moment of weakness.

She shakes her head and her fingers move around the back of my neck. I hear William call out again and he is closer this time. It is now or never.

I'm not sure who closes the distance between us but _there, finally, _her mouth is on mine and her lips are impossibly soft and I cannot get enough of the taste of her tongue. She kisses me back, arching into me; my fingers splay along her sides. She squirms in my lap and I make a moan of protest, not wanting her to stop but needing her to at the same time. I can clearly hear footsteps now, nearly at the entrance. I pull away, trying to show some restraint but she captures my lips again. William's voice is dangerously close now and finally she pulls back, panting.

"Snow? Are you here?"

I see her eyes wide in the dark space, understanding now that the light is coming from torches held by whoever is outside of the cave. I motion with my head for her to crawl out first, looking at her lips as if expecting to find them bruised. She calls out while still looking at me.

"William? We're here. We're alright."

Her voice sounds steady but her distraught look betrays that she is anything but.

"Thank god! Over here! Men!"

I help her to get out without bumping her head and too soon we are both standing outside of the small cave, facing William. He embraces her, checking her over, cupping her face. The face I was kissing just seconds ago.

He assesses her for injury as I did and I have to turn away, the sting of having another man fussing over her too much to bear for now. I realize suddenly that the wind and rain have stopped completely, but the rocks are covered in a thin layer of what looks like snow. A few of the men are looking around seemingly as confused about that as I am.

"And Lily?" I hear Snow say, voice hesitantly hopeful. William must shake his head because there is a somber silence.

I feel a hand on my arm. William is looking at me with a grave expression. "And yet again, I am indebted to you, Eric." He steps back and faces the men with him, obviously a search party, hastily pulled together. "Take heed all present this day. I hereby name Eric the Huntsman as The Queen's Chief Protector."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six.

I stop to watch the sun as it makes its descent into the far horizon. It bathes the land in golds of every hue; land I can see in every direction from my cliff top vantage point. It is, I suppose, beautiful.

I turn from the scene and point my horse to home.

Three days have gone by since I sheltered with Snow against the strange storm. The weather was fine straight after; aiding us in rounding up the nine horses still in the area and bringing them back inland and up the valley. William had given me the task of organizing the men; Raith had had to do my bidding. I put him in charge of transporting Lily's poor broken body back to the castle. I also gave him the job of seeing to the horse with the broken leg that I'd had to kill – burying the colt under rocks for Snow's benefit. The job took him the entire day, about which I was glad.

I did not get to speak with her for the rest of the camp. I wasn't sure if that was good thing or not – I don't know what I'm sure of anymore. All I know for certain is that I have signed myself up for a special type of hell, allowing myself to taste her like that. Now I am a man with an unquenchable thirst.

And thanks to William's revelation – there is no reprieve in sight. While he prides himself on realizing, finally, that Snow needs better protection around her, his stroke of genius is to post me as her daily bodyguard.

As I arrive at the slope that leads down to my village, I think over today's bittersweet torture. Snow wanted to arrange a visit to Lily's parents to console them in person and so I ordered her guard. William has given me free license to order soldiers to do my bidding when it comes to Snow's security, and I have to admit it gives me some measure of comfort to make sure she is properly protected now. I have the time and manpower to check the location before we travel somewhere; I have the authority to say if I think a situation is dangerous.

I try to organize the soldiers to usher her but there are times; like when I help her down from the carriage and need to take her hand a bolt of energy seems to run between us; like lightening running from her skin to mine. I know she feels it because she avoids my eyes as I do hers.

After seeing Lily's parents, Snow was distraught. I wanted to ride with her in the carriage but I thought better of being alone with her. I rode behind as the rain fell and the carriage wheels splashed through the puddles of the narrow street, thinking of her inside and sobbing. I'd thought I had done the right thing but now that I am nearly home I realize that was today's opportunity to be near her, and I gave it away. Perhaps I will not be so generous tomorrow.

There is a surprising pleasure in reaching my home. I feel certain that eventually William will insist on my staying at the castle but for now I will take solace in this – being in my own place. I take off my axes, knives and leather vest, laying the weapons in their place by the fire. I drag my shirt off over my head and give it a cursory sniff, deciding it can go another day if I hang it over the chair. Then I sit at my table, unlacing my boots and toeing them off as I pour and down a glass of whisky.

I hear an ominous rumble in the sky above the house; I picture the full clouds swelling and realize I need to chop some more wood if I'm going to warm the cottage for the night. I mutter a curse as I tie my boots back on; consider putting back on the shirt but decide I will just get it dirtier and grab an axe instead, heading outside. The wood is stored under a shelter around the back and I grab several stout logs and throw them towards the chopping block. With my axe I set about splitting them into small manageable bits of wood.

I am aiming to chop just enough to see me through the night but once I start I realize I find it oddly calming, like it is satisfying the restlessness in me. I am through several logs before the skies open.

I throw the split logs under the shelter as I chop but I keep going, enjoying the rain for a change. I need a wash and this is close enough.

I swing and chop, water running over my chest, arms and back in rivulets. This is the calmest I've felt all day, for several days in fact. The sky splits and gleams with lightening and I stop and turn my face up to the rain, closing my eyes and letting the belt of thunder shake through me.

"Eric!"

It is her voice haunting me, following me as the thought of her does, everywhere I go.

"Huntsman!"

I open my eyes and she is standing opposite me, at the edge of the trees. I swipe a hand over my face; sure I have conjured her from my very thoughts.

She is soaked through, like she has bathed in her dress, her hair hanging wet, her shoulders exposed. I walk towards her, frowning, still not sure if she is real.

"Snow?"

She is crying, tears mixing with rain on that face, _oh that face._ I walk faster now and she comes towards me too; both of us faster once we realize the other is not a phantom.

And then I am two steps from her and her arms go up and the split second thought of decorum falls away like it is made of ash. I gather her in to me, hear the breath forced out of her as I crush her close. Her hands grip my shoulders and I can't understand why she's here and then why she hasn't been here all along.

"Snow, why…how…"

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Eric, I can't do it..."

"How did ye get here?"

"I stole away, I had to see you…"

"Snow, yeh can't… you should no'…"

"I know."

I am holding her to me my arms wrapped around her waist, her feet off the ground. Her hands come to my face, painfully tender. I shake my head but I am already lost.

I kiss her, like a man dying of thirst finally drinking from a spring.

She kisses me back and it is unlike any kiss I've ever had. It is everything all at once and yet it is not enough. A brief glimmer of sanity somehow sparks in my addled mind and I break the contact, realizing we are still out in the open, I am still only half dressed and it is still raining.

"This is all my fault, lass – we canna do this… In the cave…I ne'r should have…" With an effort, I lower her to the ground but I cannot bring myself to let her go.

Her eyes rove over my face as the rain streams down her face.

"Please. Please take me inside," she whispers.

And I find myself lifting her; while my mind protests, my body has no such resistance left. I climb the steps cradling her, shove the door to the cottage open with my shoulder and kick it closed. And with the door shut and the world behind us, my last shred of self-control disappears. I take her directly to the bed and lay her down, wet dress and all. When I press my body into hers the sweet relief feels like the thunder outside again, shuddering through my body. She makes a noise of pleasure so full of longing it makes me want to drive her through the bed.

She arches against me as I taste her tongue and feel blindly for the laces and stays that keep her dress up before tugging the shoulders further down. I take her breast in my mouth and she makes another noise; I swear she is going to break me.

I press a hand to her lower back as she strains and moves; my palm nearly covers her back. She whispers desperate, incoherent pleas, her fingers grasping my shoulders and gripping my hair. Her skin is impossibly soft and warm and tastes like sweet rain.

I shift her further up the bed, kicking off my loosely laced boots. My hands move to pull up her skirts and I watch her face. She opens her eyes and looks at me through heavy lids, biting her bottom lip. I watch her as I strip away her undergarments but she doesn't flinch, doesn't falter. I smooth my hands over her soft thighs, still gauging her reaction and she holds my gaze, nodding. I move to capture her lips with mine, not able to find the words for what I want to say.

When my fingers find her it is torture – beautiful torture to see her change, from a flash of uncertainty to wonder to near delirium. She pulls my face to hers and I need her to stop making those noises against my mouth; I will not last long enough if she doesn't. She responds to my touch like it is some sort of life force and I am drunk on her, intoxicated by her innocence. She has not been touched like this – I feel that in a rush of fierce certainty. I stop and grasp her by the hips, like I did the day on the river, back when I was still pretending her closeness wasn't driving me mad. I roll on to my back and pull her on top of me; helping her swipe her wet hair out of her face so I can see her.

I keep my hand on her hip as I reach down below her and free myself from my breeches – ignoring the warning voice in my head, the one that usually keeps me alive. Because this is reckless. This is senseless beyond all reason but I am powerless to resist her, of that I am certain now. I grasp her jaw to turn her face so I can see her; she opens her eyes and gazes down at me as I drag my thumb over her lips. She takes it into her mouth as I guide myself into her.

She gasps. I tense my fingers on her hip, encouraging her to move slowly, following an instinct that even though she is a married woman, something about this is new to her. Her expression is shy despite all and I put both hands on her hips now urging her to move. She keeps eye contact though and I nod up at her in silent approval. She begins to move herself and I watch her eyes close, her whole body change as she finds her own rhythm. I sit up, mesmerized. She loops her arms around my neck and I bury my face in her breast, kissing her throat when she drops her head back, feeling her moan vibrate through her chest. It is my undoing; I move my hand between us; finding her center with my thumb, desperate to give her the pleasure she deserves before I take my own.

She tenses, her thighs grip my sides and then I feel her release. I move her hips for her and she cries out; I cannot hold myself back anymore. I empty myself into her, groaning into her chest. My hands run up her back to grasp her shoulders.

We stay like that, panting for breath together. I recover before her; gently pulling back to check her face, finding her eyes still closed, her pulse still beating rapidly at her throat. I cradle her head and pull her down to lie next to me, gathering her boneless body into my arms like I've always longed to. I give her time to come back to me, kissing her brows and nose and stroking her back.

She starts to become aware again, folds into me. I move her so she is lying on her side, making a pillow of my arm. Her fingers trace my face.

"Eric, I'm sorry…"

"Shh." I tilt her head forward and kiss each of her eyes in turn. "Sleep now, lass."

She looks like she may say more but her eyes fill with tears and then she buries her face in my neck. I say nothing, even though my throat aches to. Instead I help to get her fully out of her damp dress and then tug off my own pants before I pull her close again, stroking her hair until she sleeps.

xxxx

Night falls, along with more rain. I cover us with blankets before I doze, waking with a start every time, always having to shift to check her face in the moonlight from the window; check that she is truly here. But every time her body breathes against mine, warm and real.

When she wakes again I kiss her and she responds instantly, running her hands and lips over my chest and shoulders and it feels so good it's nearly painful. I gently ask if she will be missed at the castle and she assures me that she stole away from her quarters with the help of her ladies maids – she wore one of their cloaks and escorted the other as if she was just one of them, leaving the Queen's bedroom after her nightly duties. They are obviously fond of their mistress, offering their help with no questions; one had even stayed in her room for the night to complete the rouse. Snow was to be back in time to enter the castle with the other maid, as was the usual morning routine.

It is not yet the dead of the night and so we have still hours to spend. I grab her and kiss her and she laughs, the sound a magical sound, filling the room. Our kisses grow fevered again quickly. This time I take longer, making her writhe and beg before I take her.

When I go to fetch the wood that I chopped earlier – that time that feels like days ago now – there is a light dusting of snow on the ground outside. After I stack the fire again, I steal back under the covers, pulling her back to rest against my front. It is not long before she moves against me, reaching back to pull my face down to hers. Lying on our sides my hands have access to every part of her beautiful naked body and I touch her – in every way I've ever furtively imagined.

She moves like she is made of fire, so ready for every touch.

After, we doze again. I can't count how many times we doze and wake, make love and then sleep again. It feels as if we are in a frozen moment in a time of our own, entirely untouchable by the outside world.

But I am awake when the birds begin their song. I watch the sky color like a bruise through the window next to my bed. I have not pulled the curtains as the bed is low and I wanted to watch the sky all night, letting it measure out the minutes we have left. I think she is asleep and I am loath to wake her but then I feel her trace a scar on my chest with one soft fingertip.

"This is from the day you met me, is it not?"

I place my hand on hers, still staring out at the changing sky, casting my mind back to that moment. I squeeze her hand.

"I think so." I kiss the top of her head.

"It is. I remember. Anna dressed it at their village," she says.

I rub her shoulder with my thumb. She props herself up on one elbow, looking down at me and I tuck her hair behind her ear.

"And this one?" Her fingers trace another scar along my ribs.

"A fight. In an inn. Over money, if I recall."

She shakes her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval before smiling at me. I grasp her face between my hands, and pull it to mine, kissing her. She kisses me back and then pulls away, dropping her head to gently place her lips over the scar on my chest. Then she shifts lower, to press a kiss over the scar on my ribs.

I watch her at she trails kisses down my stomach and then glances up at me, a wicked gleam in her eye. I shake my head and gently reach for her, lifting her back up.

"Don't start that now." My voice is low and my body completely disagrees with my words but the sky outside is growing lighter by the second and the voice in my head is getting harder to quiet. She grumbles as if scolded and I laugh – she contents herself with laying her head on my shoulder and running her fingers over the ridges of my stomach.

"Why can't the night last forever?" she whispers.

I make a noise of agreement.

We lay there for a while longer, in silence. I don't want to be the one to speak next; as much as I know we have to get her safely back to the castle, I can't bear to be the one to break this moment. I pull her tight to me, trying to memorize the feel of her body against mine.

"I will come back." She pushes up on her elbows to look into my eyes. I can see she is adamant. I brush the hair from her face, wanting to say yes but knowing that I have to think about what is best for her.

"Snow, we canna do this again. Yeh know that."

She presses her lips together, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, her gaze is full of the strength I saw when she led an army of men to storm the castle.

"I am getting tired of people telling me what I can and can't do in my own kingdom." She caresses my face and the look in her eyes changes to such affection I am stunned. I can think of nothing else to do but drag her to me, kiss her soundly.

Finally she gets up and I enjoy watching her finding her clothes, laughing as she has to retrieve them from the absurd places they were thrown. I cannot bear to have her leave.

"Come 'ere."

She smiles shyly, her hair in her eyes. "You said I had to go." She comes back to the bed. She gasps as I pull her into me, tumbling her over and pressing her into the soft mattress.

"I changed my mind."

* * *

Snow.

I am a terrible person.

I have never believed I was capable of treachery, knowing what it cost my father and I. Perhaps I am no better than her – Ravenna, the woman who plunged a dagger into my father's beating heart.

I do this now to William, daily. Whether he knows it or not.

We walk through my mother's gardens now, snow covered as they are. I enjoy walking in the cold, my breath ghostly and my lips numb. William's hand clasps mine but it does not cover it. It is not warm.

"…and they say the fields should recover strongly for barley."

I try diligently to pick up the thread of conversation, knowing my mind has been wandering. It does that, often. Wanders to a cottage in a village within sight of this castle. A cottage tucked into a cover of trees, with grey stone walls and a thatch roof, a pile of wood out the back. I can picture it too easily.

"So the people are ready for a harsh winter?" I don't know why I say that.

"Yes, my love. The most ready they've been in years. There is plenty of smoked meat and after an excellent season of hemp we have a large group processing that for rope. Eric has the hunters poised and ready for the coldest month."

My whole body reacts at his name and I stop at a barren rose bush to disguise it. I can feel my heart has sped up – just at the mention of his name.

Then I notice a small green bud on the branch. A lone symbol of life in a colorless garden. I touch it gently with my finger and gasp when it opens, quite sudden, a tiny blood red rose.

I feel hands on my waist and then William's chin rest upon my shoulder, him watching the rose with me.

"My love…"

His voice lilts upwards at the end of the word and my stomach turns to ice, knowing there is a serious question coming. His hands move to wrap around me and I have to quiet an urge to push his arms away, something that happens too often now.

"Do you think… we should have news of a baby some time soon?"

I frown, having no understanding of his meaning for a moment. A baby?

Then his palms flatten against my stomach and I realize what he means.

A baby.

I flinch, drawing my hand back from the rose with a start. My finger has caught on a sharp thorn and it slices my flesh, instantly dripping dark blood on the snow at my feet.

"Oh, Snow…"

William catches my wrist with both of his hands, concern knitting his brow. I watch the blood drip down my finger in two long dark lines until he pulls the handkerchief from his neck and presses it against the scratch. I make to protest that he should not ruin his clothing for me but he hushes me and kisses my cloth wrapped finger, his eyes on mine.

I look down at my feet, seeing three dark circles of my warm blood puncturing the bright white snow.

Blood.

A baby.

My vision blurs for a moment and I nearly grasp the barren rose bush again to steady myself. William catches me though, and leads me back towards the castle with an arm around me, supporting me.

As we reach the arched entrance of the stone corridor I turn back and glimpse the rose bush. Its branches have exploded in blood red roses, all in full bloom.

I turn quickly away and let William lead me inside.

xxxx

Here, in my favorite place in the world, I can forget who I am for a moment.

I can forget the pain of my childhood; can forget the weight of my crown.

In the warmth of these four walls I have found my sanctuary. And in the warmth of the body lying next to me, I have found my freedom.

I lay in the crook of his arm, head on his shoulder. He doesn't speak, just laces his long fingers absently through my hair.

I pick up his other hand from its resting place on his chest. It is heavy; I have always marveled at the size of his hands. I turn it to place my palm against his.

I stare at our hands pressed together, his fingers a full joint longer than mine. I don't look up at his face but somehow I know he is looking at them too.

"I kissed yeh."

His voice is a deep rumble in his chest against my ear. I keep looking at our hands.

"What do you mean?"

"That night. When you… after we brought you back to the Duke's castle… after… the apple."

I sit up then, propping myself on an elbow. He is staring at the ceiling, his mind travelling back in time to that night. I stay quiet and watch him trace his thoughts.

"You were lying there… I had asked to pay my last respects but I was just sittin' in a corner getting drunk." He gives a short laugh with no humor in it. "I talked to ye, told ye things I hadna said." I wanted to ask him what those were but I stayed silent.

"I kissed yeh." He looks at me now, his smile sad. "I don't know what it means if anything t'all but I just thought ye should know."

I move up to kiss him, because I can't think of what else to say. The sky outside rumbles with thunder and I feel like the strange weather of late seems to reflect my very emotions. I wish the cold would stay; wish snow and ice would blanket the land so I was frozen in time in this cottage, in this very minute. Stay in this moment forever.

We don't speak of it again for the next few stolen hours but what he said is on my mind when I go to leave. He laces my stays, planting a kiss on the back of my neck when he's finished.

"I remember waking up," I say, holding my braid, staring at the floorboards. He goes still behind me and I close my eyes. "I remember the air rushing into me and everything was certain. My face was wet."

I turn around, suddenly needing to see him. I reach up, holding his face, my thumbs tracing where tears would fall. Something shifts inside me, falling into place like shards of broken glass made whole again.

He shakes his head. "Let's us no' speak of it. What's done is done."

I frown, taking a small step back from him. "Why?"

His his face is a mask of sadness and – I realize with a jolt – resignation. I shake my head no.

"Don't look at me like that. Eric, I can't bear…" I turn away, my words swelling in my throat and choking me. He lets me alone as I bend over, the pain of this situation feeling like a blow to the stomach.

"Snow, there is no future for us. Ye know this, lass."

I hold a hand up my eyes squeezed shut. He remains mercifully quiet and I draw a few deep breaths, trying to calm the churning of my insides. The wind howls around the cabin outside like a ghost asking to be let in.

"It could work. We could… the people will not deny their queen." My voice is watery and I know I am grasping for any solid thought. "They will understand."

Eric sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Aye, lass. But William will not. And nor should he have to." He walks over to the fire and sticks his boot in, moving a log around. "There is only one way this can go, Princess."

I move over to him, my legs feeling shaky. "And what is that?"

He reaches out and brushes a hand softly down my cheek. "We have to stop. And I will likely have to leave." He says it simply, without self pity and as if he isn't breaking me apart with his every word.

I clutch my stomach again, feeling ill. "No." The word is whispered and then I find some strength, stepping forward and clutching him. He folds me into his arms and for those few seconds everything is right again. I grip his shirt and look up at him.

"You can't. You said so yourself, there is magic at work. You kissed me. It was _you_, Eric. You and not William."

He kisses me urgently but then drops his hands from my jaw, his expression neutral.

"All that means is that I was in love with ye. That's what woke yeh. The magic is within _you_, Princess. You will rule this land for a long time and I will no' be the last to fall in love with you, trust me. It cannot be helped."

He smiles – a genuine attempt. I rest my forehead on his chest.

"You speak of this as if I have a choice, Huntsman." His fingers tighten on my shoulders and I look up. "I am as helpless as any of us."

He traces my brows, runs a thumb across my lips. "Helpless is one thing I would never accuse you of."

He kisses me again and the wind outside grows still.

xxxx


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

*Edited!*

A/N: I'm so sorry - in previous posts I completely missed out this entire chapter! Here is the chapter that was missing. Sorry for the mess up.

Eric.

The village is celebrating. A change of season and the thawing of the fields. New life and new beginnings.

I walk through the town square, past the maypole and its rainbow of bright ribbons strung out like a colorful spider's web. Children will dance around that later, weaving in and out as the music plays and the villagers smile, clapping their hands. Such a scene hasn't played out here in years – the darkness of Ravenna's reign saw all the color drained from the kingdom, from its very people. That is what Snow has brought back here, color and life. Just as she did to me.

I step sideways to avoid some children running about, chasing each other with toy swords and bows. It makes me smile but the feeling is foreign on my face lately. Aside from the times when Snow steals away to visit me, the light is slowly being drained from my life, one stolen hour at a time.

I enter the castle, nodding to the guards on duty. My walk of the square and surrounding streets was to check for areas of vulnerability. The captain of the guard obliges my requests – reluctantly, as he claims great pride in the peace that has reigned since Ravenna was vanquished. He did not appreciate me pointing out to him in front of William that peace is no call for complacency - especially when the King agreed.

The castle is buzzing with plans for the week long festival and I stick to the sides of the busy corridors to avoid the bustling serving staff, hurrying to and fro.

My walk brings me to the new throne room to find William and discuss my requirements for the Queen's trip into the square. The large room is also busy with a long line of staff waiting to speak with the King and his captains. William sees my head above the throng and motions me forward.

He separates from the commotion to meet me at the arched windows overlooking the rocky coastline below. I dip in greeting as expected.

"How fare thee, Eric?"

"Well, m'lord. Our best archers will be stationed at over a dozen posts and we have multiple routes of escape from the square. You are still our best shot of course so I will have your bow at the ready."

William nods, satisfied. "Very good. Thank you, my friend."

I very nearly flinch at his words, clenching my jaw and staring out at the surf crashing on the shores below. I nod tightly, unable to reply.

"Ah… more friends." The King is motioning over my shoulder, beckoning. I turn to see Anna and her daughter approaching, their hair intricately braided as always, their best clothing on. I smile as she draws near, nodding a greeting as they curtsey for the King.

"Your majesty. Huntsman."

"Welcome, Anna. I trust you have found your lodgings and they are adequate?" William takes her hand and kisses it fondly.

"More than adequate, your majesty, thank you."

I listen to their pleasantries as the main door behind opens and the Queen enters accompanied by two maids and a discrete guard. Her eyes search the room and alight immediately on mine. I give a minimal nod and she returns with one of her own. I concentrate on breathing deeply to distract myself from my speeding heart and the heat flooding through me at seeing her.

She approaches, wearing a beautiful gown of blue and gold, her hair twisted around her crown in an elaborate and becoming fashion. She embraces Anna and her daughter warmly, a genuine smile on her face that I enjoy bearing witness to.

I indulge myself for a moment, watching her, knowing it is not out of place in this moment. I do not spend too long on any one curve of her though, knowing I must measure out my torture in bittersweet morsels, never allowing my gaze to linger lest it betray me. My fingers and palms itch to touch her and I ball them into tight fists, finally looking away again to survey the room, busying my mind with searching for the guards, checking they are doing their job. I have hand- picked the men that follow the Queen around on a daily basis and I see them now, discrete in their positions in the room but ever watchful.

Snow greets William with a kiss to his cheek and I look away.

"Eric." She keeps her eyes averted as she greets me.

"Your Majesty," I reply.

The King takes Snow by the elbow to draw her away and I turn to take my leave also. Anna stops me with a hand on my forearm. I look into her large brown eyes and they seem to bore straight through me. I hold her gaze with practiced calm.

"How long?" she says simply.

I frown, still trying for a fleeting moment to feign misunderstanding. Her wry expression shows she is not buying any of it though and I shake my head, looking out to the windows again. She steps forward and I follow, giving us a bit of distance from her daughter.

"You must stop this, Eric, now. For both of you."

I look at her, seeing the sympathy and truth in her direct gaze. I notice my hands are still balled in tight fists. I release them and nod once before taking my leave.

* * *

The rest of the day is eventful with dignitaries arriving from neighboring kingdoms, keeping the castle staff busy. I take my delegation of men and show them their stations for the celebrations tomorrow, going through various scenarios and escape routes if needed, for both the Queen and the King. It helps to busy my mind but at the end of the day, once all the work is done, I am brutally alone with my thoughts.

I think of heading back to my cottage but know I should stay on hand in the lodgings I am afforded at the castle. Besides, the cottage now has her written in every piece of furniture, the bed nearly unbearable to sleep in alone. I decide to call into a tavern that many of the soldiers frequent, certain a drink will calm my restlessness.

It does not. Nor does the bawdy humor of the men drinking there or the obvious advances of a softly-curved working lass.

I find myself wandering, aimless. I head back to the square and retrace the steps of each escape route, knowing it is already in hand. I end up arriving at my room late, once all the streets are deserted and the houses silent.

I feel her presence in the room without even lighting a torch.

I close the door and let my eyes adjust to the dark. Moonlight falls in through the windows and touches on the room, a chair, the four-post bed and the curved shape upon it.

I move to sit by her and she wakes, startled. She registers it is me and sits up flinging her arms around my neck.

"I was worried," she says against my cheek.

I shake my head, unable to stop myself from putting my hands on her, despite what I know I must say. I bury my hands in her hair and my face in her neck, breathing in deeply. Then I set her back from me.

"You should no' be here."

She raises a hand to my face, the despair on hers nearly breaking me.

"I could not stay away, knowing you are here."

I take her hand from my face, resist kissing it.

"You must go. This… we cannot continue like this. Snow...I don't wish to."

I am pleased with the strength I summon into my words but I have to look away from her crushed expression.

"You are trying to release me. I know what you're trying to do, Eric."

I stand and move to the window, my legs shaky. "I must move on, Snow. I must find a wife. I deserve a chance to be happy, also."

She comes up behind me, her small hands on my arms. "Please… don't," she whispers but I hear the resignation in it this time. My chest feels tight, my every breath an effort. I keep my hands on my belt, not trusting them to stay away from her.

She rests her cheek against my arm. I think of a million things to say. I think of throwing all my good intentions to the wind as I have done before and turning around, taking her on this bed – having her under William's roof, something I have sworn I would never do. Then I think of Anna's unflinching gaze today and I know what is right.

She seems to feel the resolve in my body. I feel her hands drop, her fingertips brushing my skin. And then she is gone.

* * *

I run a finger inside my collar, trying not to think again of how I wish I were out of these uncomfortable clothes and far away from here. The ballroom is quite the spectacle tonight; the long room lined with tall windows on both sides lit with hundreds of torches and candles, with flags bearing the kingdom's crest hanging from every column.

I stand to the side, watching the proceedings, keeping my eyes firmly away from the Queen. She is dancing, her step light, her smile soft and kind. I cannot be the only one having trouble looking away from her, she is glowing. She wears a headpiece that frames her face perfectly, the sleeve details of her emerald green gown scraping the floor as she moves. I rub a hand over my face, resolving to find a drink as soon as this is done.

"A toast."

I turn to see William hand me a mug with typical impeccable timing. I bow as is expected and go to decline the drink out of habit.

"Ah – you have done your job, Eric. An altogether excellent job this week. Allow yourself a little celebration."

I take the mug with a nod of thanks and indulge my King, taking a drink. It is excellent liquor and we exchange some comment on it. We both turn to watch the dancing again. I actually enjoy myself for just a moment, as if I am having a well-deserved drink with a close friend, almost forgetting for a second that I know better. I see Snow and her partner – a Duke from the neighboring realm of Heront - drawing closer to us.

"I have one more duty for you, if you will indulge me," William murmurs.

"M'lord?"

"Please cut in on my wife and that pompous fool." I watch him as he smiles at the Duke, talking through his teeth. He then grins at me, conspiratorial and full of jest. I freeze for just a moment before realizing I have no choice but to indulge his request. I have a wild urge to run from the room, find a horse and ride into the dark without looking back.

"I would do it myself but it would not bode well for kingdom politics." He still has a smile in his voice but I know he bids me to do as he asks. I drain my mug and give it to a passing server, wiping my lip with my sleeve.

"As you wish, m'lord." The words taste bitter in my mouth, despite William's responding chuckle.

The Duke of Heront is visibly disappointed and it makes me glad for a moment that William instructed me to do his bidding. But as I bow to Snow and she does the same back, I realize I should've tried harder to refuse his request. As her hand slips perfectly into mine and my other hand finds its place on her waist I realize I am a fool to get this close to her in such a visible place.

"I apologize for the intrusion. It was at the request of your husband."

Snow looks up at me, too close, too familiar. Too beautiful.

She glances across at William and shakes her head a slight smile curving her lips. "I thought as much."

I have not spoken with her in days and the sound of her voice is like music to me. I decide to take the opportunity to commit more of her to memory, the fullness of her lips, the dark length of her lashes. I do not know how many more times I will have the privilege of seeing them this close.

"Have you had a nice time at the festival?" I cringe inside at her polite question, knowing we will be reduced to a future of this. I nod gamely.

"Yes, I have. It was a marked success for the kingdom."

She nods politely, gaze on my chest.

"Did you find a suitable prospect to court?" Her voice only wavers slightly. My hand tightens its grip on hers and I want to dispel the thought, tell her that I can no longer look at another woman, not since the first moment I laid eyes on her. I glance over her shoulder to see Anna watching us move around the floor, her eyes wide and fearful. It strengthens my resolve.

"Yes, I think so," I lie.

She draws a sharp intake of breath and I have to right us so we don't stumble. She recovers though and we continue with the expected steps.

"Oh." The single syllable escapes her on a breath.

"It is for the best, Princess." I instantly berate myself for using that name, having vowed privately not to anymore. Her eyes turn up to mine, so wounded I nearly take it all back. Her face has gone sheet white and I stop our dancing, gripping her tighter, concerned. She wavers, as if she might fall and I steady her.

An ear-splitting crack explodes above our heads and I grasp her on instinct, pulling her to my chest. She clutches me back and we both turn to see the huge circular stained glass window at the end of the room shattering, raining colored shards down to the floor below. The guests scream and begin to scatter and I hold Snow tightly, sheltering her and looking for the source of the threat. Then the glass in the windows lining the walls bows and there is a silent pause before it explodes out in a deafening shower of glass. I wrap myself over her, burying my own face into the back of her neck as the splinters hail down.

When the glass stops its clattering on the flagstone I look to the Queen's guards, pleased to see them mobilizing, bows drawn and scanning the room that is now in chaos. I hold still, assessing first before I move and that's when I see the only other motionless person in the room.

William stands facing us where I left him only moments before. He still holds the mug, knuckles white as he grips it. I lock eyes with him and I see it; the stricken look of a man who finally sees what has been in front of him all along. I become aware of Snow's hand on my chest and the other fitted tightly around my waist, her body pressed into mine with a familiarity that is surely obvious to anyone who truly knows her.

William frowns, just once and then turns and stalks from the hall.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight.

A/N: I'm so sorry - I made a mistake with my last post - I missed an entire (pretty crucial) chapter! I read the confused reviews and just thought my action scene must've been badly written so was putting off rewriting it but have just now realised I cut and pasted the wrong chapter :( That would definitely make it confusing :) So sorry for that - Chapter 7 is new and replaced - you'll need to go back and read that and hopefully it will make sense now. I will post the rest soon too.. thanks for reading and putting up with my posting fail :)

Snow.

My maid brushes my hair, long strong pulls to the ends and I sit motionless in front of the mirror. I don't look at my reflection – too afraid of what I might find there now.

We should remove this mirror, I think. This and all the glass from my room. Every weapon. These girls should not be in my company. There is magic in me, not of the gentle kind as everyone thought but of the vicious nature of this kingdom's previous queen. I know now I broke the window in the hall. I know I have been responsible for the unusual weather – I know because as soon as the chaos rang out at the ball, the castle has been blanketed in thick cloud and mist for several hours and overnight. Alone with my thoughts I have realized I must have been responsible for the severity of the storm that attacked us on the coast when we moved the horses. I am responsible for the night that killed Lily.

The girl behind me goes to begin braiding my hair but I wave her away, dismissing her despite her soft process. No one should be alone with me. I am far too dangerous.

I have had only one visitor – Anna. She was instructed by Eric to take me to my chambers and he left, to help with the swift retreat of all the guests. William has not sent word but I assume he is doing the same thing. We all realize what it is now – I don't need to speak with any of them to know that. Anna tried to reassure me that it isn't an evil magic, this chaos inside of me, but I think even she does not know what I am capable of.

I walk to the windows and close the heavy velvet curtains, unable to bear looking at the uncommon mist. I stand looking at my hands, a flash of measuring them against Eric's the only thing stopping me from shrieking in an overwhelming panic.

There is a knock at the door. I hesitate, wary of inviting anyone in – but badly wanting some company at the same time. I open the door to William, sweat-dampened and staring past me. I frown, unable to read his strange expression, confused by how he stands on the threshold instead of coming in.

"William?"

"Tell me it is not true, Snow. Please tell me I am mistaken."

I am stunned into silence, even as I feel my world crumble. My William, my good, strong William. I recall a sharp image of my father in his bed, Ravenna's knife still deep in his chest, his eyes wide and staring.

"Tell me!" I flinch at his shout.

I say nothing, still frozen.

"How long? How long have you both been laughing at me, behind my back while I continued to throw you together?"

"We did not mean…"

"Do not…" His voice is low and quiet and somehow more menacing than his shout. He holds a hand up to me, wets his lips before going on. "Do not try to justify this. I have done nothing but care for you. I love you, Snow."

His voice cracks on his last words. His eyes plead, like a starving man begging for sustenance. I cannot hold his gaze; I stare at my feet.

"I love you too, William." But the words taste hollow, though I know them to be true.

"But not as you love him." He presses a hand against the arched doorway as if he needs the help standing. We stand there for a moment, silent. Then he paces back, goes to speak again and leaves instead.

I listen to him stride down the corridor before folding where I stand, kneeling with my arms wrapped around myself on the floor.

* * *

Eric

The mud is thick underfoot as I trudge through the camp to the Knight Commander's tent.

The unseasonable cold and rain has made the fighting harder and the men complain about it often. I keep my mouth shut, happy to bear each and every hardship. For the role I played in creating it, I have much penance to pay.

Every day since the Kingdom of Noreth declared war on Tabor I have been at the front. A hurried ceremony saw me and several other soldiers grudgingly made a Knight Bachelor to formalize the ranks that would hold the Kingdom's defense.

That was the last time I saw the King.

He had called me to his private quarters, the morning after Snow shattered the windows at the ball. I thought I'd known what to expect, was prepared to bear the King's wrath. Instead he had made me a Knight, in preparation for a wisely predicted attack.

Noreth's Grand Sorcerer had been present the night of the ball and had not only recognized the crackle of magic but Snow as its source. After the display of Snow's untamed power all the good work put in to political relationships had been for naught; even our closest trade partners were wary of Tabor now – nervous that the new queen would begin to show traits of the previous one.

William had had me kneel, even though there was no one else there to witness the ceremony. He had produced a sword and I'd had a moment to consider if he would take his vengeance then and there. But he had merely lighted the sword on first one of my shoulders and then the other. I'd thought he was going to let me leave without another word but I was wrong. He leaned down to speak by my ear.

"You will serve the kingdom at the front for as long as we need to hold the castle. When your services are no longer needed you will leave. I don't care where you go." His voice was strong and certain. I'd kept silent; sure that anything I had to say would add insult to injury.

William had stepped closer, his voice dropping further.

"If I see you back in my kingdom again, it will cost you your head."

I had waited until I thought he'd left but just as I was half raised to my feet, he came back in.

"One more thing."

Stars exploded in black as he punched me squarely on the jaw. It was a good shot, and fair. I took it without comment and have not seen him since.

That changes when I enter the Knight Commander's tent. William is standing behind a table, still wearing his travelling cloak, bow and quiver. He glances up at me and nods in acknowledgement but I know that is purely for appearances.

"Ah good, come in, Eric," says Odin. The Knight Commander is a good leader, the first appointment I truly approve of in this kingdom. He is too old to be of value as a fighter but his strategy is faultless and I am grateful to have his ear.

"We held them back from this edge but it cost us our vantage point on the on the peak." He gestures in wide sweeps across the map held down on the table before him by small weights.

"We must win it back then," William observes.

"The men are fatigued. We need to inspire them somehow."

The unspoken suggestion in the Commander's voice sets my teeth on edge. He continues.

"Perhaps we need to confirm their fears about the strength of our Queen. She has led men into battle before, they would fight for her now."

I hold very still, sure I cannot trust myself to speak.

"She cannot. She is…in a delicate condition."

"I understand, your Highness, but if she could just pay a short visit it may serve to boost the men's morale to…"

"She is with child." William's words bring a stark silence to the tent and turn my insides to ice. The Commander flushes.

"My apologies, your Majesty. And my congratulations, also."

William turns on his heel and walks out.

* * *

I live for the fight now.

I cannot desert my post, I cannot contact her. I cannot drink myself into oblivion. I am caught doing a duty I cannot deny and some days I think of how easy it would be to let my guard slip. To let the blessed point of an enemy blade take it all away in seconds. But my instinct for survival is strong. And though I accept I may never see her again, I find my attempts to extinguish all hope fall woefully short of their goal.

Particularly because of the dreams.

They are vivid color and so full of yearning that I struggle every time to decipher what is reality when I wake. I can barely remember them but I know she visits me. And I know that I cannot die without touching her again.

* * *

Snow.

I live for the light now.

There is none around me, all is black. The light I see exists only in my dreams, when I am back in his arms again.

And inside of me.

At first it was a small glimmer, unsure as I was. Now I can feel her. I know she grows strong and she is made of all the things I used to think I was. Whether her father is my King or my beloved is of no consequence; I know she is good and she is right.

It is me, her mother whom I fear.

* * *

William sits stiffly, eating his breakfast and just bearing my company as he seems to do now. We eat in a private room set not far from the kitchen; there are no grand gestures of protocol anymore. We are a people under attack and we live as such.

"How do our men fare at the front?"

I'm not sure what compels me to speak this morning, as I usually remain silent. He takes his time answering, his spoon scraping the plate the only sound in the warm wood-panelled room.

"They fare well. Why do you ask?"

There is an edge to William's voice which I have come to learn now, a dangerous lilt that belies a rage inside of him that he keeps in check. I had not realized it existed before.

"I wish to know. Our kingdom is at war."

He looks over to me, his eyes lighting on my still flat belly in an odd mix of first adoration then loathing.

"Your beloved is still alive, if that's what you really want to know."

My heart races instantly and I take a deep breath, calming my blood as I have learnt to do.

"I want to know of all the men. They have families who are hoping they come home."

He gives a bitter laugh. "Are you disappointed that I continue to come home?" He lets his spoon clatter into his plate and stands up abruptly.

I sigh. My own temper rises quickly of late, even though I know it is important for me to keep it in check. But I cannot resist defending myself. "Are you going to continue to scald me like a child, William? For I am no longer one – and neither are you."

He stands up and charges over to me. It does not scare me, even when he bends so his face is only inches from mine.

"No. You just carry a bastard child inside of you. One that you expect me to raise as my own."

I meet his fierce gaze. The rage in his face dies suddenly, like a candle being blown out and I glimpse how broken he is. My eyes prickle with hot sudden tears.

"I never meant to hurt you, William. I did not mean for any of this to happen, I wish you would believe me."

His own eyes well with tears now as he stares down at me. He gives one more glance at my belly, stares at the ceiling and blinks several times before walking slowly out and leaving me alone at the table.

* * *

My feet walk in black sand.

Waves tease the shore and leave froth in their wake; I walk through it. I hear a whinny behind me and turn to see a black horse rise from under a pile of stones, each falling away from its sleek body as it stands. I look down at my belly and it is flat – my dress is wet.

Dreaming. As soon as I realize I am dreaming, my next thought follows close behind.

Find him.

I turn and run towards the end of the beach, toward the headland. My legs feel heavy but I ignore them, knowing the tricks of dreams will just slow me down. I reach the end of the beach and start clambering over rocks, moving over to the cliff face to feel my way along. The wind begins to whip and howl around me and I move faster, searching for the opening to the cave.

I find it the crack in the stone, step up to it and fall through.

The lush grass catches me, soft as a pillow. The sun is warm on my face and I squint up against it. A shadow falls over my face.

"Snow."

I feel his arms wrap around me, strong as iron. A desperate gasp escapes as he crushes me against him.

We fold at the knees, lowering to the ground together and I pull back to look at him, knowing I must treasure every second. He captures my face with both his hands and kisses me, urgent.

"How long do we have?"

His voice, ah I miss his voice. I shake my head because I never know. Every time I get better at finding him, quicker, but I don't know how to hold him there. I think he must be asleep as I am but I don't know where or how, I just know I can visit him, and it is real.

He kisses me again, laying me back into the grass. I feel the weight of him and desire speeds around my body, swirling in my stomach and down to my toes.

"God, Snow…I miss you…"

Our kisses become wilder, more insistent. I grasp him to me, my fingers unable to dig deeply into the hard muscle of his arms. He shifts on top of me, kissing my throat.

"I love you, Eric."

I open my eyes to the darkness of my room. He is gone.

My fingers tighten on the sheets, and I shut my eyes tightly again, needing to hold on to the room to contain my despair. Thunder rumbles outside and I try hard to breathe through my tears, knowing how important it is to calm myself.

The dream is followed by two days of constant rain.

* * *

Eric.

We hold the enemy back from the front for near on five weeks. The fighting slows and I despair at that, finding it nearly unbearable to have an idle sword. When I fight I do not think of her.

The men are restless, unhappy. The weather does not help – it is unseasonably wet and wild, rain lashing us one day, howling gales chasing us the next.

The lull in fighting lets me drink more though. A group of men gather each night around a fire now and I join them, needing to dull some of the sharp feelings that assault me daily, especially after a particularly real dream.

I swig from a skin as the men chatter, one of them plucking idly at a lute.

"There'll be more join, mark my words," a broad shouldered older man comments. "Two kingdoms stand against us now, more will follow."

"The King will put a stop to it. Our trade is important; they will see." A young redheaded man replied. I was willing to bet it was his first experience with war. I had a flash of Sarah, after I had come back from that first war. Her laughing and me watching her, astounded, as if laughter was some strange behavior that I had never witnessed. I had nearly forgotten the most simple of things, back then.

"Don't be a fool, lad. They will see no such thing. They see only the riches to be gained now – there is nothing that will stop them, other than our Queen proving that she really is the witch that they fear."

My palms prickle at his comment; I take another long swallow.

"I hear that they are willing to cease the fighting," chimed in another dark haired lad, adding a dramatic pause and enjoying the attention of it, "…if we surrender our Queen."

The men made murmurs of different tones, a few of them as outraged as I felt. My fingers wrapped carefully around the neck of the skin and I leant it against my knee.

"Well then we fight till the end…"

"We will surrender nothing!"

"We should!" The dark haired lad spoke again, his large nose looking bigger in the firelight. I couldn't remember him, and I had a good memory for the men and how they fought. I took it as a bad sign that I had no recollection. "Perhaps she is dangerous. We all know the weather is like this thanks to her so she has no love for her men! We are at war because of her!"

I had not noticed I had risen to my feet until a few faces turned up to me. The lad glanced at me and foolishly kept speaking, impassioned.

"She will prove to be no better than the Dark Queen. We should march them up to the castle and deliver her out ourselves – her and the demon child she carries."

I am only aware of my actions when I realize half a dozen men are tugging at my arms, wrestling me off the boy. His face is sprayed in scarlet – his nose at an unnatural angle. I stare at my fists as if in a dream, seeing them covered with the same bright red smears.

"Eric, stop! Stop – enough now." One of the men I know well – Aeon, a good fighter, speaks in my ear, his arms wrapped across my heaving chest. Ovals of reflected firelight come into focus – faces, all turned towards me.

I stumble back, and retreat into the dark woods.

* * *

"Your majesty, a word, if I may."

William turns to me – as does every other face in the tent. Beith and Nion stand by his side, raised up on benches to study the map on the table. William eyes me for a moment, a look on his face as if he has swallowed something sour. Then he looks back at the map, while flicking two fingers to me in a beckoning gesture. Beith and Nion exchange glances as I approach.

I wait for the King to speak next, the protocol nearly killing me. I haven't slept since breaking the young lad's nose by the fire. The night spent awake in the jarring cold has made me realize that although I am mostly banished from the kingdom, my chief and only concern is the Queen and her safety. And the safety of her child.

"Well? Speak, Huntsman."

"I have noticed Draidan is here, at the front."

William sniffs, still looking at the map. "What of it?"

I clench and unclench my fist. "He is the only one competent enough to manage the Queen's security."

William raises his head to look at me then, his lips twisted. "The only one other than you, you mean."

I do not look away. "Aye, and you know this. Are you no longer concerned with her safety, William?"

One of his men begins to speak up, outraged at my disrespectful tone. William silences the man with a raised hand.

"I am. Particularly the safety of my heir. But the enemy strengthens and we need all our best men at the front." He gives a short, bitter laugh. "To my understanding, she can take care of herself. Isn't that what you told me, Eric? Did you teach her well?"

I turn my head to stare at the canvas wall, trying to steady my temper. "Your majesty – listening to the men speak; she is in grave danger. We must make moves to protect her."

William sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I have. She is safe." He looks back up at me and I notice his hair has grey streaks at the temples that I haven't noticed until now. He looks as weary as an old man for just a second before he waves to dismiss me.

"We must move on. Eric."

I have to fight my every instinct to make myself turn and walk out of the tent. Outside I look around, up at the hills behind me – picturing the castle beyond it outlined against the sky. Men are gearing up to replace those at the front and I should be joining them. I turn instead towards the hills.

"Huntsman!" A shout behind me stops me but I do not turn. "You will defy me?"

"Eric is right, your Majesty. We must protect our Queen."

I turn at that, finding Beith has followed William out of the tent and is standing between us, hands on his belt underneath his portly belly. He shakes his head as William goes to speak.

"No, lad. All personal thoughts aside, all is lost if we lose the Queen. She is the life that came back to the land. Muir told us so, rest his soul. We will not hold here; that we have just realized. We must retreat to the castle and protect our Queen."

Several men wander nearer, curious and casting glances between the King and myself. William eyes the old dwarf.

"Find Draidan and head to the castle. Get her to the location we discussed. Protect my heir at all costs." He glances at me once before taking the bow Nion hands him and turning away. I watch his back as he freezes and then turns back abruptly, apparently changing his mind.

"Huntsman you will head to the front. By my order."

It is my turn to freeze in place as I watch him turn his back on me again. My feet remained rooted to the spot as blood heats my face; as I feel it speed through me to pulse at my fingertips. I look down at the axe in my hand that I hadn't even realized I must've drawn. I flex my hand around it a few times then glance over at Beith. He shakes his head in warning.

But I ignore him. I turn and begin walking to the castle.

"Do you disobey me?" William's shout echoes through the valley. I keep walking.

"Huntsman, you will return to the front. Huntsman!"

I don't have to turn around to know there is an arrow, maybe several trained on my back. I conjure an image of Snow, her dark lashes fanned out on her sweet checks, her lips slightly parted.

"Do not test me, Eric!"

I walk a few more steps before the sharp whistle and thud flies just by my head. I look at the arrow embedded and quivering in a tree trunk mere inches to my right. It has a red tip and it is William's – that is the only sure way to identify it because William does not miss.

I turn. Even across the distance I can see the venom in his eyes but I know him well enough to see the sadness too. He slowly reaches back to his quiver and pulls another arrow back over his shoulder. I hold my hands out in a shrug as he notches it.

"If you have to kill me, William, do so. I am dying here anyway."

His face is stony as he considers this; his bow armed but held down in front.

I see a flash of white by his ear and I react, not considering the danger.

William's eyes widen when my axe sails towards him. I hear the shouts and the sounds of weapons drawn and know I will be dead before my axe finds its mark. But the enemy soldier takes it square on the chest and in the second he takes to fall sideways and dead at the King's feet, William pieces together what has happened.

"Stop!" He holds his hands up and I know he is calling out to his men who have been quick enough to train arrows on me. "Hold fire, men."

He kicks at the dead man at his feet, wiping his boots on the grey insignia of Noreth on his tunic. The rest of the soldier's attire is black and this is how he managed to steal up to the King from the forest's shadows. Only the whites of his eyes gave him away.

William watches me with a slight shake of his head.

"All men. Fall back to the castle."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

A/N Final chapter. (There is an epilogue too which I'll post after this).

I hope this last chapter isn't confusing, it switches between Eric and Snow's POV a lot. I've put Snow's POV in Italics and Eric's in regular type to hopefully help.

Thanks so much for reading :)

_Snow._

_I feel the enemy approaching, as certain as nightfall. _

_Like a rumble travelling through the stomach of a sleeping beast I can track them; sense their passage through the castle heading to my quarters. My magic has grown and stretched inside of me like a living thing and I no longer question the things that I sense. I know an enemy is close. And I know we are under protected; the three maids in my room with me are in grave danger._

_I stand abruptly, causing the girl who had been braiding my hair to step back, her eyes are wide and fearful in the mirror. I know these two who attend me now, Mari and Elyse, are fond of me; they are the ones who enabled me to go to Eric for so long. But after the ball and with the crazy weather being rightfully blamed on me - they are on edge around me, wary of what I am and what I may become. Considering I am not entirely sure myself, I do not blame them. _

_ "__Mari, Elyse – we must remain calm. But there is a contingent travelling through the castle towards us. We must leave this wing and hide."_

_ "__How do you…?" Mari begins but Elyse cuts her off._

_ "__She knows." Elyse catches my eye and nods, her face reading mine. I grasp her hand and squeeze it; all at once grateful for the many things she has given me, loyalty, companionship - friendship. I nod over her shoulder to the young maid currently making my bed and she nods, understanding my silent instructions. I move to the trunk under the window as she mutters urgent instructions to the new maid. By the time I have retrieved my sword they are huddled by the door, eyes panicked but all ready to do my bidding. I open the door and gesture with my head for them to follow. I keep my voice low as we head down the passage that leads to the main corridor._

_The enemy is stealthy and fast; I sense they are near the dining room now. We need to get as far away from them as possible. I have a flash of Eric, unfolding his long legs from a step; of him holding the very sword I carry now, the acrid smell of charred wood and leather. Ravenna's Throne Room. _

_I call the girls around me. _

_ "__We are heading to the west wing. Stick close to the walls and try and walk on your toes so as to make no noise. Stay together, no matter what."_

_Elyse nods and Mari squeezes the third girl's shoulder as she fights back a whimper. Her bright blue eyes glisten but she manages a trembling smile._

_ "__What is your name?" I ask._

_ "__M-Magda, your highness." She lifts her chin a little. "My sister…she used to attend you before… my sister was Lily."_

_I close my eyes for a brief moment, overwhelmed. I grasp Magda's hand and squeeze it; the only response I'm capable of._

_We move forward as a group and I open the door to the main passage. My two guards are nowhere to be seen and I take that as a bad sign that they have abandoned their posts. I have noticed the difference in my guard since William called away Draidan, my chief protector since Eric left. They were wary of me; I caught several sideways glances from them that were full of either fear or disdain. _

_I hear a shout from a parallel corridor and it spurs me into action, I motion for the girls to stay behind me and close to the wall as we walk quickly in the direction of the West Wing. When I peer around one corner I see a group of men at the end of a long hall, in urgent discussion. I watch them, a coil of unease unfurling in my belly. _

_ "__Stay quiet." I whisper to the girls and pull them into an alcove between two columns as I see the men begin to move as a group. A thick velvet curtain hangs against the wall in the alcove and offers some refuge; we duck behind it. _

_Mari gestures quietly in the direction of the men, trying to alert me that they are our own soldiers. I motion for her to remain quiet and hidden and she frowns at me in confusion. But as the men pass I hear them speak and know my instinct has been right._

_ "__They will get her eventually, no matter what. We are best to turn her over now – and if she is as powerful as they say then no harm will come to her." There are a few murmurs of agreement as the men pass and I look at Mari who shakes her head, her eyes sad. I manage a grim smile, not pleased to have been right. _

_I set us moving again and we only have to avoid one other group of men before we get to the Throne Room. The tall doors stir such memories in me I have to stop for a moment to catch my breath. Mari holds my arm, asking what is wrong but I wave her off, motioning for her to follow as I move across the corridor to take the handles._

_The doors are locked. _

* * *

Eric.

When we reach the castle it is still. A woman runs past me, a child gathered in to her chest, her hand cradling his head close. I stop her, grasping her by the elbow as she tries to avoid me.

"What news?"

"The castle is lost. The enemy is within the gates. We must leave!"

She tries to tug away from me but I do not let go of her arm.

"What of the Queen?"

The woman's face crumples a little then, from guilt or concern I'm not sure but she shakes her head, yanking her arm out of mine, and hoisting the child higher. She calls back to me as she flees.

"I am sorry, Sire, I do not know."

Beith pulls up alongside me on his mount. We regard the castle as we stand in its shadow. It is eerily quiet; the only sign of things amiss is the absence of the guards. But there are no bodies on the front entrance, and this worries me more than anything. If the enemy is stealthy enough to take out the guard without causing a commotion then they are after one thing and one thing only.

Our Queen.

William arrives at my side, also dismounted.

"How many guards did you have at this gate?" I struggle not to shout the words at him; I cannot even begin to think of adding the correct royal address.

"Two." I flinch at his unreasonable answer. I do not look at him but I heard the regret in his voice.

"William, take some men and check the Queen's chambers. The rest of you spread out and flush the enemy out – from the front gate back. Check every building, every corner, beware of ambush." I turn to Beith. "You and Nion hold the gate and when the Knight Commander gets here, have him hold with you."

Beith nods. "What is the likely outcome here, Huntsman? Do they want the castle?"

I shake my head. "These men are after one thing. Our Queen."

I select three men from the throng that are arriving and start to mount the steps. William stops me with a hand on my arm.

"Where are you going?" His face has lost its usual hostile set and I know it is a genuine question.

"Ravenna's Throne Room."

* * *

_I stand with my back to the door, fingers gripping the carved handles. The girls cower against me and my heart skitters as I hear men's booted footsteps approaching from the end of the corridor. I know they will round the corner and sight us in seconds._

_ "__Run!" I whisper urgently but I know it is too late, I know we will be seen. The girls lift their skirts and run back down the hall and there is a shout behind us. We round the corner just as a voice calls out my name._

_ "__Snow White! Your Highness, we mean you no harm!" _

_I recognize the voice and I slow. The girls assemble behind me, nervously waiting for me to instruct them._

_Duke Hammond runs towards us, his hands held up. "Please, come with us, Your Highness."_

_I hesitate for a moment, checking for but failing to locate the feeling I had before about the enemy. I feel a wave of nausea overwhelm me with the confusion and the Duke grips my forearm to steady me as he reaches my side. _

_And then I am overwhelmed by a certainty I was unaware of before. I know men are storming the castle, men of both Tabor and Noreth. And I sense that Eric is one of them. I feel him nearby – as certain as the next breath I take. The constant ache for him flares brightly inside me and I press my hand against my belly. _

_ "__Eric." His name falls out of me unbidden. The Duke nods._

_ "__Yes, Eric is here. He wants us to stay here and wait for him." My father in law pulls a circle of keys from his belt and I grasp his hand, grateful. He motions and my maids and I follow the Duke and his three soldiers as they unlock the big iron doors to the throne room._

_Once inside the Duke ushers us towards the mirror room. At the doors he encourages us to go in._

_ "__We will hold in this room and safeguard you until Eric arrives." He holds a hand up to silence my protest. "We will be fine. We must keep you safe, my Queen."_

_I grasp his hand and kiss it and he squeezes my fingers back. He pulls the doors shut and I hear the clatter of the key turning in the lock._

_At that precise moment, I sense the enemy again._

_I turn and look across the fire pit in the center of the circular room, into the dark corner opposite and I know without seeing them that we have been betrayed. I motion for the girls to stand behind me and watch as half a dozen men step out of the shadows. The girls gasp and I draw my sword – as futile as it seems._

_ "__There is no need to fear for the women, Your Majesty." A man with a thin grey beard speaks in a thick Norethean accent. He sneers at me, stepping forward. "We come only for you."_

* * *

I slam my palm against the doors in frustration. Faint marks in the dust show me several women had approached the old throne room from the direction of the Queen's quarters but the thick doors were locked fast. I had sent some men to find the keys though with all order in the castle abandoned, I wasn't hopeful they would return quickly or at all.

I am sure she is in there. It drives me crazy that I can't claw the room open with my bare hands. I thump the door with my fist and her name rises in my throat; protocol be damned.

"Snow!"

The men behind me stand stiffly and I feel them shifting glances at each other.

* * *

_ "__It is indeed an honor to meet you, Queen Snow." _

_The man's face is wrinkled in fleshy folds and he has a halo of white wispy hair. He is dressed dramatically- in purple robes with gold trim, his sleeves trailing on the stone floor. His golden headpiece has several fierce looking spikes protruding from it that mirror smaller ones on his shoulders. As he takes slow steps towards me his thin beard moves as if it has a life of its own; it curls like smoke._

_I take a step back, motioning for the girls to stand behind me. The air crackles with an electricity I don't recognise but that sets my hair on end._

_ "__I was impressed with your display at the ball. Wild and unharnessed magic, yes – but impressive nonetheless." He gestures towards me with talon-like fingers, all covered in golden rings._

_ "__It would be foolish, however, to let a rival kingdom possess a weapon of such power." He reaches me and stops, standing just over an arm's length away. I think of how I could reach him with my sword now but attacking him would be certain death and I'm truthfully not sure I could slay a man unprovoked. I try desperately to think of what Eric would have me do._

_A strong memory plays in my mind, of a day that now feels so long ago. _

"Sometimes, Princess, the smartest fighters are the ones who figure out how not to fight at all." He shot a lopsided smile at me and I swallowed hard, looking back down at the bread in my hand. We were sitting in the glade, having stopped for a brief lunch. I was enjoying listening to him talk, warmed by the sun on my back and the timbre of his voice.

"The best advice I could give you is to look around. It becomes habit eventually but until then you must train yourself to look at your surroundings more than most. Count how many able bodied persons could be a threat. Check each one with your eyes for weapons, noting places they could be concealed, mind. Look for escape routes and anything – absolutely anything that could be used to maim your enemy." I had stolen another glance at him then, unable to help myself. He was staring into the grass, recalling some distant memory now and he frowned slightly. I watched him for as long as I dared – until he looked back and held my stare. I dropped my gaze to his tanned forearm, exposed by his rolled up sleeve.

"Right. We better get back to it. I need to have you back to the Mirror Room well before sundown."

_The Mirror. The thought of Eric's voice saying those words reminds me of its presence._

_I don't let my eyes give me away, but I sense the dark circular shape hung on the wall in the alcove opposite us, covered in a thick ream of cloth. No one had wanted to move the thing after Ravenna died so it had been simply covered and ignored. The other entrance, leading to the tower is blocked by several men, all Noreth soldiers - heavily armed. The door behind us is locked and heavy. _

_I feel a sureness in my bones and a voice speaks in my head. _

_'The mirror is an exit. It is our only exit.'_

_I don't know where the voice comes from or if there is any truth to what she says. Any magic I have borne till now has been purely by accident but I suddenly recognize the feel of it running through me. My fingertips vibrate and a low buzzing at base of my skull is building._

_The man has introduced himself as Cyrus – Grand Sorcerer of Noreth. He has made it clear that they intend to take over this castle and the surrounding kingdom, expanding Noreth's lands to the coast._

_"__We – well, I have much use for an apprentice, I have been looking for a young person to take under my wing for some time." He steps forward, obviously not concerned with my ready sword. "You may wish to struggle and fight or,-" he traces a long fingernail down my cheek – "you may wish to be wiser, like our friend Duke Hammond, and see the sense in you acquiescing peacefully with our wishes. We have much use for someone with your power and could certainly guarantee a high standard of life for one who undertook such a role."_

_I regard him, trying to press down the bile rising in my belly. I consider telling him how I would rather I and all my subjects died before complying with him but I bite my tongue, not wanting to give away my resistance lest it costs me my opportunity. I manage a weak smile._

_ "__Ah that's a girl. Perhaps we won't have to get rid of you after all."_

* * *

I press my forehead against the door, waiting for my rage to ebb. _How do I get to her?_

There are windows to both the Throne Room and the Mirror Room but they are lead lined and take some time to break cleanly. To make an entrance would cost valuable time and throats could be slit by the time we fumbled our way through.

"Eric!"

I turn at William's shout, and a group of men surrounding their King trot towards us down the corridor. William pushes through, taking in my position by the door and realising my quandary. I must look hopeful because he shakes his head.

"I don't have the keys. All sets I know of are gone."

I curse and kick the heavy door again.

* * *

_The Grand Sorcerer walks slowly around the firepit, fingers steepled and pressed to his lips. He is lost in thought – perhaps wondering what the best course of action is now that he appears to have decided not to just kill me and be done with it. _

_I send my senses out – not even sure how I am doing it but feeling a gentle push of my awareness out from my body, like a surge of energy. I am careful not to push too hard, knowing that in one moment I could make the Sorcerer aware and all would be lost. I feel the invisible energy leech from me and I send it with as much precision as I can towards the place above the altar where the mirror hangs under the cloth._

_The Sorcerer continues to pace, as the men behind him wait patiently. I work on keeping my face impassive as my awareness reaches the mirror – the tip of my energy touches it and immediately I feel the golden warmth melt towards me in response. I nearly gasp as I see a molten puddle of gold flow from under the heavy material and down the altar, the steps, and then along the flagstones towards me. It is just a trickle, weaving deftly across the uneven floor._

_I glance back at the Sorcerer, happy to see he still watches his feet as he paces and is yet to notice my actions. The gold rushes towards us, thicker now and I plead with it to move faster. _

_It immediately gushes in a quick pool of golden lava, across the floor towards the girls and me. I hear a strangled yelp from one of them but I raise my hand slightly hoping they understand I mean for them to hold – hoping they realize this is my work and they need not be afraid. The Sorcerer hears though, and I know he will look up in the next second and see what is happening. Even two of the men behind him jolt into awareness, noticing the gold liquid streaming towards us._

_All doubt about what I am doing leaves me; I feel a certainty in my bones as I command the liquid to surround the girls. They cannot help but squeal as the melted gold pools under their feet. The Sorcerer looks up, frowning as he finally spots the magical substance travelling along the floor and glances back to confirm its origin. His face contorts into a mask of rage and he pulls a golden scepter from his belt._

_I turn to the girls, ignoring their wild and frightened eyes. They grasp tightly to each other as they drop as one, feet falling through the floor and into the golden puddle enveloping them. It is quick – they are there one moment and the next, they are gone. _

_I turn to face my enemy. _

* * *

They materialize in a heartbeat; one moment the corridor is empty, the next; three frightened girls stand in a huddle, clutching each other. One of them screams and several of the men draw swords towards them – all of us slow to recover and digest what has just happened. Then I recognize one of the girls as Snow's handmaiden and I lose all confusion at their sudden appearance.

I grasp the girl by the shoulders. She takes a breath to focus on me but I see the flicker of recognition.

"What happened? Where is she?" I try not to shout.

The girl takes an infuriating second to find her tongue. "She…inside. She is in the Mirror Room. We…" She looks around at the other girls and then down at her own hands and body, as if checking they are all in one piece. "She… transported us. With …I think it was the Mirror." Her eyes close in anguish. "But she is still in there. With their soldiers… and Noreth's Grand Sorcerer."

* * *

_He lifts the scepter and I watch him without fear._

_His face is full of murderous rage but I am filled with a sense of calm. The girls are safe. I was able to save them. Now I let myself recall Eric, the iron strength of his arms around me. I close my eyes with a picture of my love in my mind, ready to accept my fate._

_The Sorcerer's fatal blow hits me; I feel the force of it like a violent gust of heat. But when I open my eyes I see him still pointing the short staff at me, his jaw slack, confusion in his eyes._

_It is then I realize I view him through a golden haze. I turn on instinct to look behind me to see a tall golden figure; a featureless but imposing man, his arms crossed. The golden giant stands still but I am suddenly aware of the thin haze it has thrown around itself and me. I turn back to the Sorcerer, knowing I have the protection of this being – this tool Ravenna used during her wicked reign of my kingdom. I feel a connection with it – and I am struck with a certainty that the Mirror is now loyal to its new master. Me._

_The Sorcerer curses and throws another jet of red energy from the end of his scepter – again and again where it hits the golden haze around me, my golden companion deflecting it. The blows smack against the barrier and send ripples through the cloudy surface. _

_The Sorcerer screeches his frustration but the noise sounds muffled, as if I am hearing it from the other side of a wall._

_I look down at my hands, marveling at the power surging through them, from my fingertips and on up my arms to hum through my body making me vibrate. I look at the Sorcerer again and see a flash of fear cross his contorted face._

_The realm of possibilities opening to me becomes beautifully clear. _

_I lift my arms and all doors fly open. Men scatter as I put my arms down again and I begin to rise, my feet leaving the ground an inch at a time._

* * *

I do not care that my King is there. I barely notice that Anna and some of the scar-faced women from the floating village arrive en masse, in a well-organized troupe; they must have been staying in the castle also.

I hear the story from the women that the Duke led them all to the Mirror room and straight into the Noreth soldier's trap. I only cast William one deep frown and then I am back to nearly climbing the walls, furious that I can't get in.

I am about to go around the side and begin smashing the windows when the doors fly open of their own accord. A great squall of air blasts through them, swinging them wide, knocking several men over.

William and I lead everyone cautiously through the flung wide doors.

The first thing I see is several of our soldiers, just recovering from being knocked to the floor. The Duke is among them; one man is trying to help him up.

I lurch towards him on instinct but William is already moving.

"Father!" His voice is a terrible noise, laced with agony. He reaches the Duke and grasps twin handfuls of the older man's shirt. I see Wiliam's fists shake as he pulls his father to meet his anguished eyes - keeping only the barest control of his temper.

"Tell me it is not true. Tell me these women are mistaken – that you did not offer my wife, your Queen, to the enemy." His words tremble. The Duke shakes his head, weary in defeat. William unhands him in disgust.

I begin to stride towards the Mirror Room entrance when another blunt gust of wind pushes through the room; knocking men and women to their feet as I hear Snow's anguished cry from the room beyond.

* * *

_I rise higher still, marveling at the lightness of my body. Power swells through me, as I reach the middle of the room – suspended now over the fire pit. I no longer see the Sorcerer or the soldiers, only a golden shine on all the surfaces of the room. Flames ignite in every candle stick on the altar in a sudden burst. I know with certainty that I created the fire and I laugh at the absurdity of it – years of pining for fire and light in my tiny cell and now I know I could light every candle in the kingdom with one brush of my hand. _

_I hear a deep and resonant voice in my mind. _

_"__The people bow to your glory, my Queen. You, their rightful ruler. The fairest of them all."_

_The intoxicating power flows through me, building until I feel I must let it go. I open my hands and energy flows from my fingertips. The flames in the room burn brighter. _

_"__There is nothing to fear. All will bow to you, my Queen."_

_"__Yes." The word slips from between my lips as a sigh. I feel the walls shift, stone against stone as the tree branches etched into the columns around the room come to glorious life. My eyes begin to see clearly as the branches shoot out; catching soldiers by the neck, the wrists, the ankles and torso; bounding them tightly against the floor and walls. I hear their cries of terror but they feel distant; I am cocooned in spun gold, suspended high in the air above them. _

* * *

I am first to my feet and I run to the mirror room, towards Snow's voice.

The scene that meets me as I enter the room is all the terrors of the Dark Forest at once.

Snow, _my Snow_, floats eerily in mid air in the middle of the room. The stone vines on the surrounding walls have come to life – the thin and twisted branches crawling through the room as long fingers, ensnaring soldiers and pinning them brutally by the neck and limbs, dragging any who flee back by the ankle or wrist. Men shout and struggle but the branches seem to only tighten when they do. One man is held in mid air by the enchanted vines, moaning in rage and pain as his limbs are pulled in all directions. He wears a fantastical robe and a headpiece that he must've been wearing now lies on the ground underneath his suspended body. The Sorcerer, I think.

I glance at William who has walked up alongside me. His face is pale, his eyes frozen on Snow.

Her hair drifts skyward and her limbs are loose as if she is floating underwater. A thin golden haze surrounds her then I notice an inhumanly tall and featureless golden statue standing solidly behind her, arms folded.

"Snow!" William's anguished cry turns her face towards us. Her pupils are black and unseeing, although somehow I can sense she recognized his voice.

"Yes, my love it is me, William. Come down, please come down. Release these men." He takes a few cautious steps forward and I shadow him.

Her head tilts, and then the stone underfoot splits along a large crack; more stone vines push up through the floor. They wrap around William's ankles, immobilizing him. Then they travel up his legs, winding around his hips and waist before I even have time to comprehend it.

William cries out, in obvious pain. "Snow! Stop!"

I move back to the wall just as Anna and one of her companions step in to the Mirror Room. Her eyes seek out mine and I gesture quietly to the golden figure behind Snow. Anna nods and steps into Snow's line of sight.

"Your highness, the fair and noble, Snow White. Please listen to us."

* * *

_I hear another voice; behind the voice of my Mirror. It is higher – distressed. I recognize this voice, but it does not bring me peace. I want to stop it._

_I hear the cries of pain from men too, feel and hear their bones breaking and I know I am the one who is doing that. The warm intoxication of the power slips from me, it becomes a wind, whipping around my ankles, gathering speed and chilling the air around me. I hear another voice; a warmer one and I try and keep hold of it. _

_Through the haze I see a woman, maybe my mother. I try and focus on what she is saying. _

_Her face is featureless, her hair moving from dark to fair and back again. Her red lips part and she speaks but I can't make sense of her words. If it is my mother, she would be disappointed in me now. I close my eyes._

"You see? We're not that different, are we?"

_I hear the familiar words clearly as if spoken directly into my ear – as it was the first time I heard those words spoken._

"Go on, watch them die. How does it feel knowing you were the one who led them to their deaths? You see? We're not that different, are we…"

_Ravenna. _

_My eyes fly open. _

* * *

I step silently, making my way along the wall, behind Snow now, managing dodge the searching stone vines still spreading across the floor – though strangely they seem to be avoiding me too. Anna is trying to talk with Snow but it seems she is beyond reason now. William is held fast, vines holding him eerily suspended also.

Snow cries out and the flames in the room burn bright and large. One catches a tapestry hung by the altar and it ignites.

I waste no further time. I have one axe in my hand and I swing it around my fist cleaving it through the air towards the golden statue. As the sharp edge makes contact with the figure it instantly crumbles into sand, falling down in a great wash.

Snow crumples and falls, dropping heavily on the flagstone floor.

Anna screams.

* * *

_I am falling. _

_The earth does not rush up to meet me though; I just continue to fall in darkness, like a dream. All the golden warmth is gone and I am alone, and chilled to my bones. I do not hear any voices, everything is muffled. _

_I am cold, so cold._

* * *

Snow is on her knees, face buried in her lap.

The flames break higher, the tapestry fully alight. Men held close to it by the stone vines shout and try and turn their faces away from the building heat.

I look at Anna across the room and she motions towards Snow with her head - urging me forward.

"Release me! Demon woman, release me at once!"

The Sorcerer's bellow bounces around the circular room. Snow jerks upright suddenly but I approach her from behind so I do not see her face. The Sorcerer is rising though, the vines moving him up until he is held in front of her, as if for inspection. I take another step forward.

The old man's face moves from rage to fear once he looks into Snow's eyes. The vines around his wrists and ankles turn suddenly green and then, with a crackling sound, brown. Flames ignite the dried vines, rising from the roots at the floor and on up towards the Sorcerer's limbs. He begins to shout and squirm but another green vine comes up to circle his mouth, silencing him.

* * *

_Too much, it is all too much. _

_Too much noise, too much pain. It is too hard to resist the power and the need to punish. Ravenna is in front of me now – mocking me, telling me that we are the same. That I see what she sees, that I am her. _

_I know she is right – and for that she must die. _

* * *

I reach Snow, and go down on one knee.

"Princess. Listen to me."

Her eyes blink but the pupils remain black.

"You must stop this, lass. Stop and we will leave this place, together. Come with me." I hold my hand palm up, an inch from hers.

Her face twists and the Sorcerer cries out again, his vines visibly twisting tighter. The flames lick at the vines, crawling higher and towards the old man's flesh.

"Princess. I know you can hear me. Let us leave this night. Let me take you …to the cabin. Let me take you home."

* * *

_A voice; plays a note within in me, sending a ripple of warmth and light. I turn to it._

_It is he, the man I recognized the moment I met him. I let the comfort of his presence flow through me but I hold it at bay – remembering the danger I am to him. I scuttle back – forgetting about Ravenna now. _

_"__No. No, please stay away. You must stay away."_

* * *

The heat of fire is at my back but I do not move. I watch her face and see conflict inside of her, although her eyes are still not her own. I take a risk and move a fraction closer, my hand brushing hers.

She blinks again and her eyes return to normal, clear and afraid. She cowers away from me and my heart hurts to see the fear on her face. I do not move, my hand still outstretched.

"Snow – come to me, lass."

"I am – I am just like _her." _Her voice is different – haunted. "This is all my fault – stay away from me. I am the Dark Queen now."

Her face crumples. I take another chance and move towards her, taking her wrists. As always they feel tiny; my fingers wrap them easily. She freezes and I use the second to cup her sweet jaw gently in my hands.

"You, my love, are everything she is not."

Her eyes search mine and the shouts die down around me.

And I think of how hard I have tried to stay away from her. I think of all the times I touched her when we were training, in this very room, when I would deny myself the thrill that would run through me at the thought of seeing her again. I think of the moment I met her, how I had denied everything I felt in that one lightening bolt of a second and how I held on to that denial for so long.

"Do you remember, Snow – the moment I left you at the village with Anna?" She doesn't respond, but her eyes are still clear so I continue. "I left you because I thought I was no good for you. I cared for you, and nothing good ever came of anyone I cared about. I felt I was cursed and I didna want you to have to suffer by being with me."

"But I know now that being without you is the most suffering I have endured. I promise you, Princess, I will never leave you again. Come with me."

I feel the flames recede and she slumps against me.

* * *

When I come to I am being lifted. My head falls against his chest and I know now it must be a dream. I start to cry because with all dreams, there will be a time when I need to wake up. I grip his leather vest, turning my face into him.

He walks slowly, cradling me, presses his lips into my hair. Over his scent I smell charred wood, hear murmured voices around me. I look up.

Anna is there. She presses a hand to my check and nods to Eric. She has never been in my dreams before.

Then William. Good, sweet William, and his handsome face looks sad. He stands in front of me, takes my hand. He looks up at Eric, and they exchange a look and I see William's is one of resignation. He presses my fingers to his lips, deliberate, eyes closed. Then he nods to the Huntsman and steps out of our way.

Eric carries me down the steps, away from the Mirror Room, through the Throne Room where men and women step back to make a wide path for us and stare as he walks us through. There is broken glass everywhere and people are wounded but all eyes watch us as we pass.

At the large double doors we meet Beith. I only glimpse him before I am too high to see him anymore. I am weary, and I do not wish to wake from this dream. I rest my head against my Huntsman's shoulder and close my eyes.


	10. Chapter 10 - Epilogue

Epilogue.

They say many things about the White Queen.

They say she has an army of dwarves at her disposal, say that she can conduct the entire forest to wage a war for her if she deems fit to send the command.

Rathborn had heard all the tall stories. And he didn't believe in that fairy nonsense. He was a knight in training, not a boy. The two men he had with him were more convinced of the fables though – this he could tell by the way they slowed their horses as they approached the path to the Castle Skye.

He knew for certain she lived there, that was no fairytale, because the King himself had sent him to deliver a message and a carefully wrapped package. He squinted out at the castle, running his thumb over a scar on his cheekbone, a nervous tick of his that he stopped as soon as he realized he was doing it.

The castle had once been an old watchtower, a building set impossibly on craggy rocks that spilled into the sea from the headland. A miracle of a bridge made from stone and vine connected the headland with the castle. It looked for all the world a thing of the imagination – a pile of twisted roots and branches interlaced with stone that somehow formed a mass that held it fast to the land. From a distance it looked as if it would not hold a child yet alone grown men and their horses. And yet as they approached the entrance, Rathborn saw that the path was wide and the stone floor of the bridge, though an intricate mass of lines and curves, seemed altogether sturdy.

With a few sharp looks to his hesitant men they moved as a group on to the bridge. The horse's hooves made echoing clops against the robust stone as Rathborn marveled at the view; he could just glimpse the Kingdom of Tabor's headland far in the distance to his right, the misty outline of the castle was visible even though it was a two day ride away. All three men stared around them in wonder. Vines criss-crossed in an arched cover over the bridge but they could still see through to the tall parapet - the only part visible of the old watchtower. Now that the Queen lived there they say it shone a light every stormy night to make the rocky passage to Tabor safer for trading ships.

When they got to the castle itself, even Rathburn had to begrudgingly admit the circular courtyard at the entrance was exquisite. The mosaic floor was peppered with luminescent colored tiles and green vines crawled thickly up the four majestic columns that framed the heavy copper door. Greenery hung from a circular opening in the canopy overhead; it let light fall down on the fountain burbling underneath. A portly dwarf shuffled out from an entrance buried in the greenery somewhere.

"State your business." His voice was laconic; he did not feel challenged. He wore a greying beard with small braids tied at the chin and shrewd eyes watched Rathburn with a hint of amusement. Rathburn drew himself up in his saddle.

"We ride under the King's insignia. We carry several packages for the Queen and request an audience with her Huntsman."

The Dwarf raised two wily eyebrows. "Do yeh just." He murmured the words as if to himself and turned to walk back towards the giant doors. Rathburn thought he was dismissing them and was about to call out in protest when the doors cracked open.

The dwarf did not turn and so Rathburn nodded to his men to follow – still on their horses. He knew it was possibly rude but if the little man wasn't going to advise them on protocol then he would stay mounted to better deal with any potential threats.

As if reading his mind the dwarf turned and gestured to his horse.

"You can dismount. No harm will come to you or your men. The boy will see your horses stabled."

Rathburn couldn't resist. "How do you know that we also mean you no harm…?"

The dwarf chuckled. "Heavens, lad. You would have never made it on to the bridge if you did."

Rathburn frowned, unsure of what he meant and whether or not to be offended. The interior beyond the doors seemed unfeasibly large, as if they were entering a small village rather than a castle balanced on some rocks. There was another yard, this one just a dirt floor, but more than big enough to take their horses. Curiosity got the better of him and he slid to dismount, his men following his lead. The dwarf nodded with a smile of approval and beckoned them forward.

Inside the doors several boys scurried forward and took their horses reins from them, leading them away to be housed – where, Rathburn did not know. Try as he might he could not stop gazing around the inner sanctum, confused by the size and scale that seemed out of proportion with its outside appearance.

"Mysterious init. Best not to overthink it, I've found."

Rathburn looked at the old dwarf waddling ahead of him. "It does not seem possible, Sir," he admitted. The dwarf barked in something like a laugh.

"'Possible'. Now there's a word." The dwarf turned to crinkle wry black eyes at him. "And it's 'Beith'. No need for that 'Sir' nonsense,"

They were led further in, marveling as the yard opened up so they could see parapets to each side and a main building ahead, along with the keep and the watchtower behind it. He still couldn't fathom its size and judging by the noises coming from his men, neither could they.

Beith led them to the main building, into a warm and modest room with a dining table and chairs. Warm food and drink welcomed them and a merry fire burned in the small hearth.

A buxom woman came out from a side entrance and wordlessly saw to pouring them drinks into pewter mugs. Just as Rathburn and his men began to sit, casting uneasy glances to each other at the strange absence of protocol, the White Queen entered the small room.

All three of them stood abruptly, forming a hasty bow. The Queen smiled, waving a hand at the gesture dismissively.

"Welcome." Her smile was small and sweet and Rathburn drew a sharp involuntary breath at her beauty. Her dark hair and pale skin held his gaze as she walked around the room. "What news of Tabor?"

Rathburn cleared his throat. "The kingdom prospers, Your Highness. Crops are plentiful and trade is excellent."

She smiled wider, nodding, fixing him with her dark eyes. His gaze drifted to her lips – full and blood red. He swallowed with difficulty and lowered his gaze.

The door opened again and a broad shouldered, heavily muscled man entered that Rathburn knew by reputation. The Huntsman filled the room with his physical presence and Rathburn felt his face warm. Back in Tabor, Rathburn had a certain amount of authority as a knight in training, and as a good fighter, already commanded a decent amount of respect. As he rose to greet this man he felt small suddenly, like a boy again.

The Huntsman's grip was strong, his huge hand bigger than Rathburn's own. The man's long hair and beard belied a certain age but he did not seem to suffer from any loss of virility sometimes typical of older men. He was still what women would likely call handsome and as his blue eyes assessed all the men in the room, Rathburn had the feeling that he was assessing every detail of the new arrivals shrewdly.

He watched as the Huntsman turned to the Queen. Their shared glance was only a brief exchange but Rathburn felt the meaning in it – felt all of a sudden as if he was intruding in the small space. It was well known that the Queen had left King William the Kingdom so she could be with a common Huntsman. Gossips had delighted over every detail of the tale but Rathburn had no interest; he only knew his loyalty must lie with the King. But as he watched the Huntsman move closer to his Queen, watched how the man's fingers brushed her arm and her head tilted towards her lover just so, Rathburn knew that he was witnessing the reason why the Queen left her subjects. He felt somehow both mollified and saddened by it.

"What of the King? How fares he?"

Rathburn nodded, somehow embarrassed by her direct question just after his errant thoughts. "He is well, Your Highness. His wife is with child and the kingdom hopes for another healthy son."

She nodded, a genuine smile on her face. The Huntsman and Beith exchanged a few words and Rathburn placed the packages and letters on the table. It was strongly rumored that although the Queen had ceded the line of sovereignty to the King, she was still the true ruler – a benefactor and protector of Tabor from afar. Despite her distance, the land remained peaceful and Rathburn was told this was due to the unspoken power of the Queen. He watched her as she moved to sit down at the head of the table, ceding that she had an air of magic about her but still marveling at how a woman of her slight frame and calm demeanor could inspire fear in many a tale around traveller's fires.

A serving girl entered the room with a well wrapped package and laid it on the table in front of Rathburn.

"For the King," the Queen said. Rathburn nodded at one of his men to retrieve it. The Huntsman moved to stand by the fire and the Queen glanced at him, a smile in only her eyes. Again Rathburn was struck by the feeling that every other man in the room was intruding.

"Well," he cleared his throat and rose to his feet. "We shall take our leave if it pleases you, Your Highness… My Lords." He wasn't sure of the proper address for the Huntsman and the dwarf, not having imagined that he would gain an audience with any of the people at the other end of the room. The Queen shook her head and stood.

"Please, stay and take your rest. Your horses will be well cared for and we have lodgings ready for you." The men beside him shifted and he wasn't sure if they wanted him to take her offer or not. He protested but she assured him her offer was genuine. Ideally they needed rest and he felt he could not refuse.

This was how he and his men found themselves sleeping with full bellies in warm beds in the lower floor of the keep. Rathburn and the men had been afforded great comfort all night but he was on edge, for no reason he could explain. His shoulder, injured in a fall from a horse as a boy usually ached at night and yet this night it gave him no trouble. This, for no logical reason, unsettled him. He stood and crossed the room, unable to sleep as well as his softly snoring men. He donned his coat and made for the outhouse without any need of using it.

"Cold night for a stroll."

He jumped and turned, instinctively reaching for the sword that he was not wearing. A girl, no older than ten or eleven stood by the doorway he had just walked through. She was perched, birdlike, on a barrel there. Her legs were clad in some kind of pant but she wore a long, rather rich red hooded cape. Her eyes glinted at him, the blue of them obvious even in the dark.

"You court danger, sneaking up on a man in the dead of the night, girl." Rathburn growled at her.

She smiled, and it changed her face. Something about her was disturbingly familiar.

"My apologies, Knight. I am used to moving around my home at night; there is never any danger to court." He frowned at her, wondering whom she was to live there. She was clean and her clothes seemed to point to the fact that she wasn't an urchin. But the strange way she was sitting just added more mystery to an already baffling experience at the Castle Skye and Rathburn decided then and there he would leave at the first sigh of dawn.

"Good night to ye."

"Don't you want to know who I am?" She was skipping along behind him now and he tried to walk faster. She kept up effortlessly.

"No."

She made an amused noise. "Very well. I know your name, however."

A wry smile tugged at Rathburn's lips without his intent. "Oh?"

He cast a glance over at the girl. Her hood had fallen back and he saw her jet black hair was arranged in intricate braids. She nodded at him, smiling.

"Gidon Rathburn."

He stopped cold, his boots skidding on the grit. The noise echoed around the stone walls of the courtyard. He stood silent, looking at her and she stared back, a small smile on her face.

"Who are you, child?"

She frowned, and he saw that she was not at all homely – she would likely be a beautiful woman when she was grown. "I am not a child. And my name is Scarlett. My mother and father are your hosts."

He did not miss the fact that she didn't call her mother a Queen or refer to her father's legendary status within the Kingdom, let alone describe herself as a princess. He did remember himself to bow deeply but she rapped him gently on the head with some gloves he had not realised she was holding.

"There is no need for protocol, Sir Rathburn. I am not royalty and you are not my subject."

He nodded, and straightened. "Very well." She walked on again and he followed suit. "What shall I call you?" he ventured.

"Just …Scarlett."

They walked together in silence across the courtyard under the dark skies. He could hear the wind lashing the waves against the rocks far below but the castle buildings and their surrounds felt as solid as ever. He glanced over at the girl, curious now. She spoke again, looking up into the stars.

"Do you know the King, Sir Rathburn?"

He shrugged. "To speak of… Scarlett."

She smiled. "What is he like? What is Tabor like?"

"You have never been?"

She shook her dark head. "No. I should like to."

Her voice held a note of wistfulness. Rathburn surprised himself by being willing to respond.

"The King is a good man, a fair and just ruler. He is a kind husband and father by all accounts. The Kingdom prospers under him. It is a bustling and colorful place." He saw her wide brown eyes watching him intently as they walked side by side; he could feel her thirst for more knowledge.

"He has a sadness about him, truth be told. One wonders if this is because his father is banished. The Duke of Hammond remains in Hammond and never visits due to a falling out in the past. I do not know why."

Rathburn bit his lip, unsure why he had told such a tidbit of woman's gossip. He shook his head. "What else do you wish to know?"

"Is my mother well thought of? And my father?"

Rathburn considered pretending he did not understand what she meant. Instead, he nodded. "Yes, m'lady. Especially so."

The girl nodded, pulling up the hood of her cloak. "Thank you, Sir Rathburn. For your conversation and your company. I shall see you again sometime, I trust."

He nodded in reply, unwilling to lie. She curtsied and turned to leave. He called her back, without knowing at all why.

"By the same token, Scarlett, you need not address me as, 'Sir'. I am …not a Knight yet." Rathburn had no idea why he would say such a humble thing to a small child, strange in her ways and strange to him. He could not see her face anymore; her hood left it in darkness.

"Ah. But you will be, Gidon," she said, a smile in her voice. "You will be."

Gidon Rathburn and his men left for Tabor the next day, without seeing the Queen or her family again.


End file.
